Miracle on 084 Street
by Silverspoon
Summary: An unexpected encounter with a kindly old man in a red, fur-trimmed suit leads Coulson in search of the perfect 'family' Christmas. (Skyeward Christmas fic - with a little inspiration from a few classic Christmas movies.) AU Season 3.
1. Chapter 1

**Well, here we are - the first chapter of our Christmas mini-fic. For those of you who requested a festive story, we hope you like what we came up with!**

 **As always, thanks to all who read and review.**

 **Consider this AU from Season 3 onwards.**

* * *

 **Miracle on 084 Street**

 **Part One**

The moment was as close to perfect as Skye was certain one could get; red wine swirling around the belly of a large glass, empty dinner plates lining the kitchen table, and her bare feet resting in the lap of her boyfriend, who was industriously massaging away the last traces of a particularly hard day. The sigh of contentment slipped past her lips before she even realised it, and Skye beamed as Grant raised his eyes to meet hers.

"Happy?" he inquired, a smile present as he rose to his feet, preparing to toss another cut log onto the open fire.

"But exhausted," Skye countered, leaning back in her chair and then placing both feet back onto the floor. Her eyes took in the room over the rim of her wineglass as she raised it once more to her lips; dark stained wooden floorboards made more inviting by a serious of thick rugs dotted about, crimson couches scattered with throw pillows and a knitted blanket, and paintings of wild horses running free in the fields lining the walls. Skye really had to hand it to whoever had decorated the ranch - they had done an extraordinary job in turning a simple safe house into something that could almost be imagined as a home. It was Skye's favourite place to be of late, ever since Ward had introduced her to it following a mission a few months back. Ever since, the ranch had never been too far from Skye's mind, and she often found herself daydreaming about what it might be like to call the place with its acres of land and vacant barn, home.

Ward tossed the log into the hearth, narrowing his eyes as he surveyed the dying embers of the once roaring fire. With a deft flick of his wrist, a plume of vivid, orange flames flew from his palm, and the fire was once more raging in the grate. Skye smiled sleepily as she watched him pause at the mantle, his hand lingering over the ornate twists and turns in the oak whilst he stood momentarily lost in thought. It was two years since Ward had rejoined the team, after helping them to first track down an elusive Hydra base, and then launch a rescue bid to bring Skye home that had culminated in a literally Earth shattering fight at Afterlife; and a new life being unexpectedly thrust onto the Specialist, who had dared to defy Jiaying's wrath and found himself on the wrong end of a Terrigen crystal for his troubles.

Running her fingertip over the edge of the glass, Skye smiled softly, adding above the roar and crackle of the fire, "But, yeah, I'm definitely happy."

She could sense the smile on Ward's face before he had even turned to capture her gaze, and a genuinely elated look passed between the pair. Patting the vacant seat beside her, Skye placed her glass onto the coffee table and waited until Grant was dutifully sitting next to her again before she curled her feet up in order to stretch languidly into his open arms.

"I feel like I could sleep for a whole week," she lamented, humming contentedly as his fingertips traversed a familiar path through the strands of her long hair. His heart thrummed reassuringly beneath her ear, and she found herself coaxed further into the warmth of his body. "And that sucks... cos we're finally alone... no interruptions, no stupid missions, no tiny little beds and thin walls."

"You make living at the Playground sound like bunking with the seven dwarves," Ward chuckled, brushing a kiss against Skye's forehead as she giggled against his chest. One thing Skye had not anticipated when she'd first gotten to know the 'real' Grant Ward? He made jokes sometimes. And even more unlikely a fact? On occasion they could even be classed as funny.

"Coulson would be Grumpy," continued Skye, a wicked grin illuminating her features along with the firelight.

"Then who would that make May?" Ward pondered aloud, blinking rapidly in order to dispel such errant thoughts. It never served one well to mock Agent Melinda May; a fact that many a brave and highly stupid rookie at the academy had begun to discover of late, ever since the Cavalry had taken up a post there as an advanced combat instructor.

"Do we really have to think about work right now?" Skye inquired, letting out a low moan as her head dropped into the crook of Ward's shoulder. "I am done with all things S.H.I.E.L.D. related for at least eight solid hours. Preferably ten, but I'll take what I can get."

"Sorry," Ward lamented, an apologetic kiss pressed to Skye's cheek as an afterthought, "what do you want to talk about instead, baby?"

Skye shrugged, falling back into his arms. Grant folded his hands over her abdomen and Skye began to trace her fingertips over the back of his wrist, noting how he flinched as she ghosted over the scar barely visible against his skin, yet still apparent to her touch.

"I don't want to talk," she replied quietly, inclining her head and reaching her free hand up blindly to curl around his neck. She leaned up to brush her lips against his in an invitation for him to kiss her soundly, which of course he did. She giggled as his kisses created a path down her neck, and the breathy moan that escaped her moments later set Ward grinning against her skin.

"God, I love it here," she stated, "it's so quiet and cosy... and... I don't know, it feels like a home. Like it should be someone's home... a forever kind of home, you know?!"

Ward, preoccupied with forming a trail of kisses along the arch of Skye's neck, shrugged and raised his lips from his task only momentarily.

"Wouldn't know, not like I ever really had one of those," he stated, and there wasn't an ounce of self pity lurking in his tone, much to Skye's admiration. She often caught herself lamenting her own childhood in a less than becoming manner, and it was a habit she longed to break, if only to quell her own mildly superstitious fear that such practices prevented her truly moving forward to the future she deserved.

"Well, no, me neither, but I like to think we could still get a feel for what that is," Skye replied, wriggling in Ward's lap as he hit a particularly sensitive spot on her skin and paused to lap it with his tongue, "I mean, it doesn't mean we couldn't have it one day… right?"

Ward halted his advances, raising his head and then settling back against the couch, finding himself bothered by the shred of fear and self doubt he detected in Skye's voice.

Immediately, a frown settled upon Skye's lips, and she found herself assuming that her words had spooked him - or perhaps insinuated that she was including him in her plans for the future; which of course she secretly was, but that seemed to have hit a nerve with the former Specialist that was making her regret her throwaway comment.

"Oookay, so... this is awkward." Skye felt her cheeks burning a violent shade of red, and she began to hurriedly adjust her shirt, closing the top buttons that had managed to work their way open under Grant's questing hands. Turning to face her, he reached out and enclosed her hand in his own, moving it away from the buttons she fumbled with. She found herself meeting his gaze without really meaning to, and she noted that Grant appeared to be carefully choosing his words. Skye felt her heart begin to flutter ominously at the hint of something indistinguishable she found lingering in his eyes.

"I don't know if you're unsure of yourself or me," he began, "I get why you still may not trust me, Skye, but..."

He paused mid lament as a throw pillow hit him square in the face. He merely blinked once and then sighed, the faintest traces of a smile on his face as he turned his gaze sideways to his attacker, who seemed less than repentant.

"What the hell, Ward? Can you stop the whole dark, broody, Bruce Wayne routine? I thought you were freaking out about ' _us_ '! You scared the shit out of me." Skye rolled her eyes as she threw herself back dramatically against the couch, relief playing across her features.

"I... I thought _you_ were freaking out about 'us'," Ward admitted, clearing his throat and this time managing to duck when Skye aimed another missile at his head.

"No, never," she stated firmly, shaking her head for emphasis. She paused in order to drain the last dregs from her wine glass and, obligingly, Ward immediately moved towards the bottle in order to refill it.

"I just…" Skye murmured, turning her head away in order to gaze out of the screen door, where the sight of darkened, rolling fields and the occasional bird of prey wheeling overhead greeted her. "Sometimes, Grant, I wonder if people like us deserve happiness. If we've never had it in our lives because we just…"

"Hey," Grant mumbled, moving forwards and laying his hand against Skye's cheek. Her eyes shone wetly in the light and Grant frowned his displeasure before stroking her skin with the pad of his thumb.

"What's brought this on?" he coaxed, removing the glass from her hand and setting it down on the floor at her feet before he indicated for her to move into his waiting arms. Skye obliged, closing her eyes as she pressed her face into the concave of his clavicle.

She smiled as he brushed a kiss against her forehead, and she draped her arm over his waist to allow herself to cuddle as close as possible. In those moments, she found she was almost able to forget that a little less than two years before, they had been sworn enemies and her heart had felt as if it would be broken forever.

"I don't know, the season I guess," she admitted, glancing up as she asked, "you think my dad's doing okay?"

Ward nodded, resting his chin on the crown of her head. A distinct feeling of euphoria bubbled up from his chest as Skye pressed herself into his arms, sharing the warmth of her body with him. It was an unparalleled feeling to Grant, who had waited a lifetime to simply be loved.

"We could go and see him if you want to?" he offered, letting his eyes flicker closed at the feel of her palm sweeping slow patterns over his chest.

"No," she replied, almost tripping over the sorrow in her own voice as she explained, "I... I don't want to see him. Not like that. Not when he doesn't know who I am."

She paused for a moment and then groaned aloud, before burying her head in his chest. "Ughh! What is it about this sucky season?!"

As if trying to coax her towards happier thoughts, Ward nuzzled her cheek, wrapping his arms tightly around her. Her eyelashes fluttered against his neck and an involuntary shiver of pleasure coursed down his spine.

"It's not so bad," he disagreed, "this is our first Christmas together. Well, officially together, in a 'non sneaking around' capacity, anyway."

Smiling sweetly, Skye nodded her head as she conceded, "There is that, I guess."

"Oh you guess?" Ward repeated, hiding his smirk of amusement behind a mock indignant expression. Before Skye could respond, Ward poked her sharply in the ribs, eliciting a shriek of mirth and a high pitched giggle that echoed around the living room.

"Okay, okay," Skye relented, managing to fend off Ward's further attacks with both hands, "I promise, I'll try to cheer up and not totally ruin the holiday season for everyone else."

Settled once again into his arms, she smiled at the sensation of his lips dragging soft kisses across the line of her jaw, and she reached behind her absently to stroke her fingers through his hair.

"So... what do you want for Christmas?" he enquired, his breath suddenly hot against her lips as he gently bumped the tip of his nose against hers.

"I don't know," she answered with a shrug, her fingertips stroking the back of his neck. A wholly teasing smirk tugged at her features. "I mean, I would say 'surprise me', but... historically..."

She winced, pretending to ponder the past only long enough for Grant to catch up with her allusions. Ward rolled his eyes, his expression deadpan and somewhat mildly infuriated, which only made Skye grin harder. The sudden light that flashed into life within her brown eyes did not go unnoticed by Grant, who felt his interest piqued along with a faint sense of trepidation.

"Oooh hey, what about a pony?" Skye enthused, nothing about her excited expression indicating that she was joking even remotely.

"Skye, I know we've revisited our childhoods tonight but…" Ward began, wincing as Skye elbowed him swiftly in the ribs, a scowl working its way across her features.

"Hilarious," she drawled, shaking her head at Grant before gesturing to the masses of open fields and plains that stretched out as far as the eye could see beyond the windowpane. "I am totally serious. I could keep it here, you could teach me to ride, and maybe we could make this place more of a permanent base. It'd be the perfect excuse."

Chuckling, Ward shook his head as he inquired with an arched brow, "Why do you assume that I know how to ride a horse?"

Skye snorted, her tone derisive as she tossed back at him, "Oh please, your entire family was practically gold plated. Of course you know how to ride… and fence, and probably ballroom dance, and all that other rich, white boy stuff."

"You're lucky you're cute, China," Ward retorted, his lips twitching in obvious and poorly concealed amusement.

"Hey, you asked me what I wanted," her mouth set into a tight line, and Skye shrugged for effect, eyelids fluttering momentarily closed as he kissed her affectionately, his hand cupping her cheek so that he could caress her skin with his thumb. "What about you? What do you want? What's on Grant Ward's Christmas list?"

Her eyes narrowed a fraction, the light and jokey mood suddenly disappearing as Grant peered down at her with an expression of obvious adoration.

"You," he murmured, holding her gaze effortlessly, "only thing I've ever wanted is you."

Skye smiled, stealing a kiss before she declared, "Naww, that's sweet, Ward, but so boring. Come on, there must be something you want?"

He gaped, contemplating the question for only a moment before he shook his head, "Nothing. There's nothing I want. This is it... this is all I've ever wanted, right here."

Head tilted, Skye regarded him dubiously, moving to sit astride his lap in one fluid motion that appeared to take him by surprise.

"I know I'm the gift that keeps on giving, but you've got me, okay? _Okay_?" she widened her eyes to convey her point - that Ward needed to stop second guessing the reason she had elected to give him another chance - only content when he nodded in agreement.

Her palms swept across the muscles of his chest before she looped her arms tightly around his neck. "When you were a kid, what was it you wanted Santa to bring you? Come on, what did adorable little mini-Grant want more than anything?"

Avoiding her question, Ward firmly shook his head, "I really can't remember. It was a long time ago, Skye."

Not buying his sudden memory lapse for even a moment, Skye instead offered her own reply. "Every year, I'd write a letter in secret. The nuns were surprisingly not so big on the whole Christmas thing... and I'd sneak it into one of the fireplaces at the orphanage, I don't know, guess I saw it in a movie or something. Anyway, I'd always ask for the same thing..." she trailed off, a slightly melancholy air overcoming her before she managed to shake it off with a wry smile, "a family and a home. A real one. And every year, I'd be disappointed. And alone, and I guess... unwanted. Okay, so now you've heard my sad and pathetic story of woe, what did you ask for? GI Joe battle cruisers? Optimus Prime? Tiny Tears?"

She felt a triumphant pang of delight shoot through her when Ward rolled his eyes and finally seemed poised to reply.

"A family," he answered almost shyly, avoiding her gaze as he added to clarify, "a real one. Like the ones I saw on TV shows, I guess."

Realisation suddenly dawning, Skye winced, recalling the endless files she had read on Ward's tragic and all together hideous childhood of abuse and neglect.

"Oh. Yeah. I... Wow." A deep, weary sigh rattled free from her body as she offered him a smile that conveyed emotions only he could decipher, "Guess we make quite the pair, huh?!"

Ward gently gathered Skye into his lap, his arms encircling her in an embrace that they both so desperately needed in that moment of reverie. They remained silently locked in each other's arms whilst the seconds bled into minutes, only the roar and crackle of the fire to punctuate the quiet.

"I'll see what I can do about the pony," Ward mumbled into the crown of Skye's head, "but you may have to settle for a goldfish, okay?"

Skye laughed and pulled his arm tighter around her waist, sighing in almost contentment as she allowed everything about him to invade her senses. Slowly but surely, the stresses and strains of the last few weeks began to ebb away. His lips ghosted her ear as he lowered his head, and she smiled at the welcome sensation of his stubble against her sensitive skin.

"For what it's worth... you're not 'unwanted' any more," Ward assured her, adding almost hesitantly, "and I love you."

She turned in his embrace and cupped his jaw in her hand, peering up to hold his somewhat hesitant gaze.

"Right back at ya," she murmured softly, and his eyes practically shone with the kind of happiness that rendered you breathless; a far cry from the world weary and battle hardened Grant Ward that Skye had come to know, love, loathe and, somehow, love once again.

The couple started, jumping apart a number of inches when the phone trilled from its perch on an end table positioned next to the couch. Groaning, Ward reached around Skye's back and seized the offending handset, stabbing at a button with a growl before raising it to his ear.

"This better be good," he intoned into the receiver, his eyes locked with Skye's as he spoke. However, before her steady gaze, Ward's irritation at the disruption seemed to melt away, and she noted how he sat up straighter, purpose igniting in his eyes as he listened to the caller. It could only be Coulson.

Skye's sigh was soft and barely audible, but she set about fixing the buttons on her shirt and beginning to clear the plates into the kitchen sink, already sensing that their time at the ranch was drawing to an abrupt close. She shot one last, lingering and fond look out of the kitchen window and allowed a smile to permeate her expression of disappointment. The stars were out in full force, blinking out a staccato rhythm against the pitch night sky.

Skye felt Ward's arms encircle her waist before she managed to sense his presence behind her, having not even noticed that he had stopped speaking in the adjoining room.

"Mission?" she guessed, her tone sounding almost accusing.

"Not entirely sure yet," Ward answered, perhaps a touch of amusement or something thereabouts colouring his voice.

"Alright, what craptastic, super important S.H.I.E.L.D. business is gonna ruin our night this time?" Skye huffed, pouting even though she felt apologetic kisses being pressed against her neck. "It better be good because I was planning on us spending at least the next 24 hours naked, hot, and sweaty."

Ward practically growled at the visual her words conjured, and he pulled her closer, pressing himself against her back as he promised huskily, "Rain check... I promise."

"Yeah, yeah," she groaned, turning around and wiping her hands on a clean dish towel before she regarded him expectantly. "Alright, so what is it this time? Pretending I care for a second."

Folding his arms across his chest, he blinked as she stretched up on her toes and pecked him on the lips. He was briefly distracted by the gesture before he managed to reply, "Uh... they've got a 084 in custody."

A fleeting yet wholly enraged shadow passed over Skye's features, and she tapped her foot hard against the floorboards as she attempted to fathom why such a development warranted their moving literally from one operation to another without so much as a few hours down time between.

"Okay, but unless it's some funky Asgardian I-phone or a Vulcan selfie-stick, why do they need you and me to come in with zero 'hot sex' time?"

Ward paused, his mouth opening then abruptly closing again. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his head cocked as he regarded Skye, almost as though he was uncertain of how to proceed without infuriating her further.

"Come on, Grant, I'm getting crow's feet over here," Skye prodded, her annoyance mounting as she watched Ward in his apparent internal struggle with delivering the mission brief.

"Coulson thinks…" Ward began, falling silent and then shaking his head before continuing, "that is, S.H.I.E.L.D. have in custody…"

Skye arched an eyebrow, hands drifting to her hips as she watched Ward become mute again, before scratching his forehead as though genuinely puzzled.

"Ward, now you're making me nervous," warned Skye, her voice adopting a slight edge that affirmed her statement.

"Santa," Ward blurted out, one hand rubbing the nape of his neck fretfully.

Narrowing her eyes, Skye inched forwards, certain she hadn't heard what she thought she had just heard. "I'm sorry, what now? Because for a crazy second there, I thought you said 'Santa'."

Ward cleared his throat, looking so much like the young, socially inept S.H.I.E.L.D. agent she had once met some four years earlier that Skye had to fight the urge to throw her arms around him and hug him. He rubbed at his jaw absently, avoiding her impatient gaze, which he could feel pinning him in place.

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger... again," he chanced a misguided smirk, before once more clearing his throat as he found himself met by the impassive and wholly pissed off expression that painted his girlfriend's pretty face.

"Don't push it, Ward," Skye said sourly, one finger jabbing at his chest to punctuate her point. Ward held up both hands in surrender, managing to stave off a grin at the last possible second.

"A S.H.I.E.L.D. team picked up the 084 just outside of Alaska last night," Ward revealed, leaning back against the nearest kitchen counter and crossing his arms in front of his chest, "it was detected by USAF radar hurtling through the sky at a sustained rate of around five times the speed of sound."

"That's impossible…" Skye breathed, her eyes widening as she raised one index finger towards the ceiling and added, "or, I guess, not so impossible."

Ward puffed out his cheeks and let out a slow breath, "I don't know. Looks like they tried to intercept the… craft... but there was… an _unexpected landing_..."

"It crashed," Skye supplied dourly, now essentially pouting at the loss of the evening of peace, companionship, lazy embraces, and Earth-shattering sex that she had been anticipating for a number of days.

"It crashed," Ward allowed, "and it seems the.. uh... the... _inhabitant_ of the uh... the _craft_... knows a lot about... well, everyone. He also appears to be wearing a red velvet suit."

"You have got to be kidding me. They want me to find out how 'Santa'," she paused in order to supply air quotations, "hacked the S.H.I.E.L.D. mainframe to put Coulson on the naughty list? What do they need you for? You gonna torture old Saint Nick until he gives up the location of his workshop?"

"What? No! I am not water-boarding Santa," Ward gasped, appearing visibly appalled at the suggestion.

Skye let out an infuriated growl, beginning to stomp towards the main bedroom, where she and Ward had earlier dumped their weapons trunks and kit bags, not even having found time to so much as unzip them.

"Fine!" she yelled, the sound of slamming closets and muffled banging reaching Ward's ears and causing him to wince.

He somewhat impressively managed to maintain his composure though, even when Skye shouted through the mist of her rage and flurry of gathering belongings, "Let's go interrogate freaking Santa Claus."


	2. Chapter 2

****Miracle on 084 Street****

 ** **Part Two****

Peering through the viewing window into the holding cell, Skye couldn't help but feel underwhelmed. She had expected their prisoner to be somewhat more than he was in every respect; larger, rounder, jollier, and altogether more impressive than the admittedly rotund but elderly white haired man that was almost half asleep at the table. He reached into his pocket and removed a silver flask, which he unscrewed quickly before upending into the cup of cocoa in front of him.

Skye frowned, shaking her head as she mumbled, "Who knew Santa needed the 12 step program?!"

At her side, Ward cocked his head as he too stared through the two way mirror, his arms crossed in front of his chest and his lips pursed.

"All those glasses of egg nog have to have some kind of effect," he replied, no indication that he was kidding present in either his tone or demeanour. "I guess Santa's been driving under the influence all these years."

Suddenly feeling the tip of a rather pointy elbow in their sides, the couple stumbled apart as Jemma busily bustled through, a plate of freshly baked cookies clutched in both hands.

"Uh... Jemma?!" Skye began, grimacing as she rubbed at the top of her arm, "something we can help you with?"

Jemma stood on tip toe, peering through the open slot in the interrogation room door, "I can't believe it. I can't believe I'm really going to meet him! Father Christmas… _the_ Father Christmas! He's really here!"

Ward eyed her dubiously but remained silent, yet Skye scoffed out loud, practically snorting derisively at her friend.

"Okay, you don't actually believe he's Santa Claus, right? Not seriously?"

"Shhhhh!" Simmons whirled around, eyes wide in alarm, and Skye blinked as she found Jemma's hand unceremoniously slapped against her mouth, "they'll hear you!"

Looking around in confusion, the hacker shook her head and narrowed her eyes in exasperation before she yanked Jemma's hand away.

"What? _Who?_ Who's gonna hear us?"

Jemma appeared appalled as she hissed, "The elves!"

Peering around the hallway as if a great conspiracy was at hand, she added in a rushed whisper, "They see everything."

Jemma could only squeak in protest as Ward pilfered a cookie from the plate. He ignored the mistimed slap in his general direction as he bit into it. Catching Jemma's furious glare, he shrugged with an evident lack of concern.

"They're not for you! They're for Father Christmas!" she stated, an inane grin settling on her features as she spoke the name aloud and stole another quick glance into the interrogation room.

Ward swallowed and offered her a truly unrepentant shrug before laying the half finished cookie back on the plate.

"Think of me as Santa's official food taster. Pretty good... frosting's a little..." he sucked on his teeth and swirled his tongue around the lingering traces of icing, "gritty."

"What?" Jemma demanded, appearing so utterly crestfallen at the news that Ward felt a momentary stab of something that almost resembled guilt. "I followed the recipe to the letter. Perfect… they're supposed to be perfect!"

"So you two finally decided to check in," came a sour voice from the end of the hallway, succeeding in drawing the trio's attention and, mercifully, freeing Grant from the hook he was dangling from.

"Agent Simmons, I'll take it from here," Coulson said, his eyes lingering on the plate that the scientist wielded in front of her like a weapon.

"But sir…" Jemma yelped in outrage, poised to object when Coulson narrowed his eyes at her before pointing one finger at the viewing window, his intent evident.

"Insubordination, Simmons?" queried Coulson, shaking his head and wincing as he added, "is that wise this side of December 25th?"

Immediately comprehending Coulson's allusion, Jemma closed her mouth with an almost audible snap and began to scuttle back down the corridor. She paused in her tracks when Coulson called out to her a second time, his voice ringing throughout the corridor.

"Simmons… leave the cookies."

Ward pulled his lips into a tight line and cleared his throat as he muttered, "They're really not that great, sir."

Coulson arched an eyebrow and looked up at him sharply as Jemma handed the plate over, staring up at Ward with such utter heartbreak that he felt himself shuffle uncomfortably.

"Will you at least tell him I made them for him?" she whispered hurriedly, smiling weakly as Ward nodded, that yes, he would indeed tell the crazy man pretending to be Santa Claus that an equally crazy British scientist had baked him a batch of lovingly hand-decorated cookies. Skye watched as Jemma trudged off dejectedly, before her attention - and her anger - became focused on their boss and his rather terse greeting.

"Yeah, well we were having a little down time, D.C. You know... wine... candles... lots and lots of hot, sweaty... s..." Noting how both Coulson's face and the tips of Ward's ears had turned a violent shade of red, she cleared her throat and folded her arms across her chest. "...snuggles. Lots of snuggles. Which you interrupted because you want us to get the thumb screws out on some old guy you've got locked up. What if a residential home is looking for him? He could have... you know... that old people memory thing... Or, or he could be sick! You ever think of that, huh? Huh?!"

Coulson ignored her rant to select a brightly frosted cookie, which he bit into with relish.

Chewing carefully, he looked up at Ward and frowned, mumbling through a mouthful of crumbs, "The frosting's a little gritty."

"So what exactly are we doing here, Coulson?" Ward pressed, glancing back at the viewing window and frowning when he realised that the old man had managed to somehow slip his handcuffs, and was reclining back in his chair with his hands folded on his paunch.

"How did he…" Skye began, shaking her head as she followed Ward's gaze.

"Well, so far I've been able to come up with precisely three explanations for the situation at hand," Coulson began, leaning on the ledge below the window as he stared intently into the interrogation room, his expression unreadable, "scenario one, this guy is part of some kind of alien master race with immense mind reading abilities, and he's arrived on Earth with an ulterior but sinister motive that he's hiding behind a seasonal visage. Scenario two, he's a hacker with superior skills and an unknown back-door into all of S.H.I.E.L.D.S. records, with a master plan that somehow involves revealing what we have saved on our Amazon gift lists."

"And the third?" Skye demanded, eyebrows shooting towards the ceiling as she regarded her boss, who seemed to be in some kind of trance like state that had rendered his powers of judgement null and void.

"Do you really need me to spell it out for you, Agent?" Coulson pressed, pointing one finger almost shakily back towards the viewing window. Skye turned on her heel, her snort of derision dying on her lips when she found herself almost nose to nose against the glass with their detainee, who was peering through the two way mirror as though he could see the three agents standing on the other side of it. Slowly, he raised a pudgy hand and waggled his fingers in something resembling a wave, his crystalline blue eyes practically disappearing into the ridged lines on his face when he smiled.

Rolling her eyes so hard her eyeballs ached, Skye shook her head in exasperation and turned to Ward, "Alright, you and me, Robot... let's get this over with."

Ward folded his arms across his chest in a silent act of rebellion, but followed his girlfriend into the interrogation room nonetheless, leaving Coulson in the hall to nibble contemplatively on the plate of cookies.

"Agents?" Coulson called after them, swallowing a mouthful as he added, "go easy on him, huh? At the very least, he's a Senior Citizen."

Shaking her head in absolute exasperation, Skye kicked the door of the room closed with the toe of her boot, " _Un-fucking-believable_."

By the time the door had swung closed in their wake, their wannabe Santa had seated himself at the table once again, his hands folded in his lap and his expression somewhere between amused and expectant.

"Well, dear me, if it isn't little Mary-Sue Poots," the man said in a soft and lilting English accent, which inexplicably encouraged the ghost of a smile upon Ward's lips. Skye, however, was unmoved, and sank into the opposing chair with a sour look fixed upon her face.

"Impressive. So you can hack S.H.I.E.L.D. files and secret, shadowy government databases," she intoned, boredom reflected in her voice. "Nothing I haven't seen… or done… before."

The man, Santa for want of an alternative moniker, laughed so heartily that his stomach shook, and Skye had to grit her teeth to prevent herself elbowing Ward in the ribs when he whispered into her ear, " _'He had a broad face and a little round belly, that shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.'_ "

"Can it, Dr. Seuss," Skye ground out under her breath, glowering at Ward momentarily before redirecting her ire towards the delusional imposter seated before her.

"I wonder if you were always this cynical," Santa said, sounding genuinely distressed at the notion as he regarded Skye, who sat up a little straighter in her seat, "I am afraid I have only myself to blame. I tried so very hard to find you but, you see, there are some things that are beyond even Santa Claus, although it pains me to admit it."

Skye narrowed her eyes, folding her arms across her chest as she felt an inexplicable stirring of curiosity overcome her that she was loathed to surrender to. She debated for only a moment before she replied tartly, "If you really were Santa, you'd know that that's not my real name."

Santa smiled as if her taunt didn't give him even the slightest pause for thought. "Well of course not. Your parents called you Daisy. Daisy Johnson."

Smug smile wiped almost instantly from her face, Skye sat erect in her seat and took a moment to regroup her thoughts, somewhat startled as 'Santa' turned his attention to Ward. The older man swept his gaze over the S.H.I.E.L.D. Specialist, a sad and regretful smile overcoming his jovial features.

"Grant Ward... Oh my dear, dear boy. I still remember your letters," he sighed wistfully, "I'm sorry I couldn't give you everything you asked for, my magic doesn't work like that, you see?! But you got my little gift, yes? And it led you here... to these people? To... to Daisy, I think."

"Skye," she huffed testily, eyes widening as she turned to Ward and found him staring at the red clad figure with an awe struck expression that he generally only reserved for a stack of pumpkin pancakes, or her boobs. It was disconcerting to say the least.

"Is it really… are you…" Ward stuttered, trailing off and wiping one hand across his stubble drenched jawline, eyes wide in a curious combination of wonder and fear.

"Santa Claus never lies, Grant," the man replied, eyes twinkling merrily as he added, "you were always one of my favourites, although you do understand I am not supposed to have 'favourites'."

"Oh please," Skye spat, slamming her palm down on the tabletop, which actually caused the usually unflappable Ward to start, jumping several clear inches above his chair. "Ward, you are not buying this festering bullshit?"

Ward closed his mouth, which had been hanging open wide as he peered across the table at the old man, who was second by second winning over his trust. He decided somewhat wisely that it was perhaps not prudent to admit as much to Skye, who seemed to be taking the man's presence at the base as a personal affront to herself.

"I don't… I mean…" Ward mumbled, shaking his head as he turned to regard his girlfriend, "every year when I was a kid, no matter how bad things got, there was always at least one thing I really wanted under the tree with a note…"

"Warmest wishes always, Santa Claus," the old man said softly, smiling as Ward dumbly nodded his head. "Oh I remember well. Let me see, now. I believe 1988 it was a proton pack. 1989 was a box of Micro Machines - you were quite specific that there be a yellow one. 1990 was…"

"A VCR," Ward interjected, falling back against his seat as though all the air had left him in a rush and he had deflated.

"Grant... Have you banged your pretty head? Drunk a whole lot of cheap bourbon? Or otherwise entirely lost your frickin' mind?" Skye interrupted, staring between the two men.

"He knows the truth, as do you, dear... and of course Phillip out there too," Santa peered off towards the glass as if he could almost see Coulson through the layers of steel and vibranium. "But I owe you an apology, Skye. You see, I lost track of you after your third foster home... the Kennedys, I think they were called. S.H.I.E.L.D... Well, they'd hidden you so well, that even I couldn't find you. That has always been a very sincere regret of mine. Every child deserves a gift at Christmastime. I let you down, and I'm sorry. So very, very sorry."

As if forgetting about the minor detail of his being detained in an impenetrable detention room, squirrelled away in a S.H.I.E.L.D. base that was quite literally off the grid, Santa retrieved a pocket watch from below his ample belly and flipped it open with a brief wince.

"Oh my, well, I'm afraid I can't stay to chat for much longer. It's my busiest time of year, as I'm sure you know. But, I have had a thought whilst I've been here. I think perhaps you all need a little vacation. A time to get to know one another again as friends instead of colleagues... to be the family I know you've all found in each other."

"You realise you're being interrogated, right?" Skye demanded, staring askance at the man, "this is an interrogation. You've been arrested and you're facing…"

"Philip, do stop loitering out there and come inside," Santa declared, eyes on the viewing window once again, but the faintest traces of a smile playing across his plump lips. "You've always been quite the eavesdropper. It earned you a spot on the naughty list once or twice in your youth, as I seem to recall."

Skye stared in abject confusion at the man but, before she could begin once again divesting to him the seriousness of the charges levelled at him, the door handle began to rattle and Phil Coulson tumbled through the door. His cheeks were flushed red and his expression was chagrined, as though he himself had perhaps started to believe the stories being fed to them by their admittedly convincing prisoner.

"This is insane, just completely insane," Skye yelped, eyes darting between the three men in the room, who all seemed to have dissolved into varying degrees of madness. "Ward, Coulson, you can't seriously say you believe this sh…"

"We're releasing him," Coulson croaked out, flashing the man a thin smile that was strained to say the least, "Mr. Cringle… or Claus… or Christmas? I don't know… we here at S.H.I.E.L.D. are very sorry to have detained you, we can only extend our sincerest apologies at the inconvenience this must have caused to your… schedule and…"

"I'm sure the elves will have everything in hand back at HQ," he winked mischievously, "although I'm afraid the reindeer will be getting a little restless by now. I'm certain I shan't hear the end of this from Blitzen, she's a very sensitive girl... and this was our final test flight in the new sleigh. We're using renewable energy sources now, I'll have you know. 500 Elf Power, 9 deer drive... flies like a dream."

"We'll uh... look into it," Coulson smiled tightly, still finding the situation somewhat surreal, "and look, I'm really sorry about impounding your uh... vehicle. I can have my science team take a look, see if they can..."

He paused mid grovelling sentence, as Simmons - as if hearing her name somewhere in the ether - came barrelling into the room, her face illuminated with a smile so wide and impossibly bright that it brought her almost to the verge of looking totally unhinged. Coming to a reverent stop before the venerable old figure sitting before them, she extended a trembling hand and gushed, "Father Christmas... It's an honour and a privilege to meet you, Sir. I've dreamt about this moment since I was a little girl, and... and you're... well you're exactly how I imagined you... and British too! This is perhaps the greatest moment of my life, and... and I would just like to apologise on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D., and my poor, misguided friends here for the unfortunate, thoughtless, cruel, crass, unfeeling, and just awful treatment you have received at their unknowing, non-believing hands."

Turning for a moment to the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents behind her, she mouthed angrily, " _How COULD you_?!" before the smile once more coloured her features, and she realised she had been clutching her hero's hand in a alarmingly tight grip the entire time.

Santa, however, appeared not to mind the intrusion in the slightest, his round and ruddy face lighting up further with the power of a thousand Christmas tree bulbs. He returned the vigorous handshake as though he too were meeting an idol for the first time.

"Why if it isn't Jemma Louise Simmons!" he enthused, chuckling as he glanced at Coulson, who only nodded. "You have earned yourself quite the place in our hall of fame, young lady. One of only six children the entire world over never to have landed herself on the naughty list. My dear, you were practically perfect."

"Oh well, now," Jemma mumbled, cheeks blushing and smile widening to impossible proportions, "I don't know about 'perfect', but... if you say so. Yes. I was."

"I'm going to puke," Skye huffed out under her breath, then demanded loudly, "so let me get this straight, Director. You drag me and Ward here from our R and R to interrogate a prisoner who you decide within twenty minutes of us arriving is probably Santa Claus, and then you let him go?"

Coulson shrugged, clearing his throat as he replied hesitantly, "Well, maybe I was a little... over zealous."

Skye folded her arms across her chest and surveyed each occupant of the room with evident disdain, before she tugged on Ward's hand and led him over to the corner of the interrogation cell, her voice hushed. "Okay, we're getting the hell out of here, this is beyond insanity!"

Ward appeared troubled, his eyes flitting repeatedly to the jolly, bearded figure, and then back to his increasingly irate girlfriend. It appeared to be a spectacular display of extremes.

"Grant?" she arched an expectant eyebrow, releasing a long, drawn out sigh as he held up his hands, clearly poised to placate her.

"There's something in my room I want to show you," he began, watching as a briefly amused smile twitched at her lips.

"So not in the mood right now, Ward."

"Not _that_ ," he hissed, obviously embarrassed if the crimson hue of the tips of his ears was anything to go by, "not in front of Santa!"

"Santa Claus is not real!" Skye yelled, stamping her foot for good measure as she glared at each occupant of the room in turn.

"Naughty list," Simmons sing-songed under her breath, earning such a look of intense fury from Skye that she stepped back and swallowed a gulp noisily.

"Santa is a fairy story, just like the freaking tooth fairy, el chupacabra and the damn Easter bunny," she continued, ticking off one ridiculous example after the other on her fingers.

"Actually, Skye, the Easter bunny is very real," Santa disclosed in an almost conspiratorial tone, adding with a frown, "although he does enjoy more than the odd tipple, if truth be told. Everyone seems to be lactose intolerant these days, it's put quite the strain on him."

"Is he British too?" Simmons inquired, cocking her head with interest as she regarded the man, whose arm she clung on to as though they were poised to take in an afternoon stroll rather than trapped in an interrogation room at a government spy agency.

"Canadian," Santa replied, as Jemma nodded quickly.

Suddenly regaining his festive sense, Santa checked his pocket watch again and sucked in a breath through a row of perfectly white teeth.

"Well, I'm afraid I must be going..." he began, sighing regretfully as Skye let out an enraged shriek and stormed out of the room. Glancing up at Coulson, the man smiled knowingly though his luxuriously soft, white beard. "I think you know what needs to happen, Phillip. Your family needs you... and what is Christmastime if not for family?! I'll have one of my elves look into it."

Coulson cleared his throat and stammered, "Well, I mean, were not... not 'family' family, and... you know, I... I..."

Turning his attention to Ward, Santa jammed his hands into the red and green braces that held up his fluffy red pants, "You do still have it, don't you, Grant?"

Ward cleared his throat and nodded, feeling the weight of all three gazes upon him. "Uh... Yes, sir."

Coulson fell silent, peering quizzically across the room at his Specialist, who was shifting his weight from one foot to the other as though he was exceedingly nervous about something.

"And I think it's helped you on more than one occasion, has it not?" Santa asked, although his words sounded suspiciously more like a pleased statement than a query. Again, Grant nodded, eyes fixed on Santa's face and comically large beard; it just couldn't be, could it?

"Including guiding you here," Santa continued, winking as he proclaimed, "I suppose I did answer your letters eventually."

Ward digested his words and turned his gaze to the ground, and Coulson felt an immense sense of guilt at his treatment of the young man, who had really been more of a victim than anyone could ever have realised, despite his outward strength and reserve. Those qualities had only been learned as a consequence of the lifetime of pain and unimaginable cruelty that had been inflicted upon him. It had been a very long time before Grant Ward had ever known anything that resembled kindness.

"Sometimes, Grant, home isn't a place, it's a 'someone'," Santa stated kindly, reaching out and placing his hand on the man's shoulder in a paternal gesture, "I'm only sorry you had to wait so long to find happiness. No child should have to suffer the things you endured."

A small smile tugged at Ward's lips, and he lifted his gaze slowly as he murmured, "She was worth the wait."

Santa merely chuckled again, sliding his hands underneath the top of his braces and waiting patiently but pointedly for Coulson to begin unlocking the cell door.

"I have to tell Fitz!" Jemma squealed, pausing in order to bid their guest farewell, "sir, it's been an absolute honour to meet you."

"And you, Miss. Simmons," Santa observed with a polite nod in the scientist's direction, "wait until I tell Mrs. Claus about this!"

Beaming, Jemma scurried from the room as soon as Coulson threw the door wide open, and disappeared down the corridor.

"I better go find Skye," Ward explained, ducking his head in almost embarrassment as he followed in Jemma's wake, leaving only Coulson and Santa standing before each other.

"You have email, Phil," Santa said with a cheeky smile, breaking the momentary silence that had descended.

Coulson beamed despite his confusion, desperate to end this rather surreal episode and get back to more mundane matters. What he wouldn't give for the distraction of an Asgardian god falling to Earth with an ancient weapon.

"Look, Sir... I'm sorry about the..." he began, turning to offer his most penitent smile to their captive.

"What the..." Phil mused out loud, mouth hanging open as he found himself alone in the interrogation cell. Peering under the table and into the corner of the room in a fruitless search for some semblance of an explanation, he narrowly avoided banging his head on the underside of the sturdy metal table, from which dangled an empty pair of handcuffs.

He climbed to his feet, planted his hands on his hips and, for the briefest of moments, S.H.I.E.L.D. director Phil Coulson could have sworn he heard the distant jingle of sleigh bells.


	3. Chapter 3

****Part Three****

Tyres crunching over freshly fallen Vermont snow, two unmarked black SUVs pulled otherwise soundlessly into the parking bays situated in front of the cabin. From first glance at the brochure, the party had expected something that more resembled a two storey combined brick and wood home on stilts. However, the sight that instead greeted them was a compact log cabin with a long front porch that was so rotten in places there were holes large enough for someone to step into. The once rich brown beams were rendered a dark, dingy colour that was stained with green moss, and a windowpane in the rickety looking front door had even been boarded up as a makeshift repair for a broken sheet of glass.

Coulson was the first to stumble from the car, raising a mitten clad hand to his forehead in order to shield his eyes from the overhead glare of the sun as he observed their retreat in horror. Simmons tumbled out of the back seat next, hair poking out at all angles from underneath her knitted hat.

"This is where we're staying?" she breathed, a cloud of white smoke escaping her lips as she spoke. She narrowed her eyes, striving hard to hide her immediate horror from Coulson, who had been oddly enthusiastic regarding the whole supposed vacation ever since he had announced it and then ordered them to pack accordingly several days prior.

"But… this doesn't look like the brochure…" Phil whined, his head whipping around as he searched fruitlessly for the four bedroom luxurious holiday home in the heart of Mount Snow that he had been promised.

Exiting the car with a pointed slam of the door, May stood at the side of the vehicle, arms folded across her chest. She examined the building for only a moment before rolling her eyes and turning on her heel to return to the driver seat of the SUV. Coulson reached out and grabbed her arm, hoping he'd affixed his most inspiring smile in place.

"May, come on! It's not... it's not that bad. You've not even seen inside yet."

Eyes narrowing dangerously, the Specialist glared up at him, nostrils flaring, "I've taken part in tactical weapons training in buildings better than that, Phil, and we blew those up at the end. I'm not staying here over the holidays."

"Melinda, wait up! Will you just..." Coulson sighed heavily, as May's jaw set and she peered back at him with mutinous intent.

Boots landing in the snow, Skye carefully made her way to the front of the vehicle she had shared with Ward, her mouth dropping open as she surveyed the ramshackle frontage of the cabin.

"Uh... D.C.?"

"I know... I know," he sighed forlornly, looking up as Ward took his place beside Skye, and he too swept a derisive eye over the building.

"I'm not sleeping in that," Skye stated, shaking her head decisively, "and I'm like 'van girl', but even I have standards, okay? No way. There's probably raccoons nesting in there or something."

"It may not be that bad inside, just needs a lick of paint, that's all," Ward cajoled, hoisting up their bags that hung off his shoulder as Skye snorted in disdain.

"You slept in a tree, Ward," she raised both eyebrows, recalling the stories he'd told her about his time in the woods as a teenager. She watched his expression fall and instantly found herself moving closer, sliding her arms around his waist and hugging him tightly, as though she needed to reassure him that she'd never let anybody hurt him like that again. A brief smile settled on her lips when she felt his arm wrap around her and the next moment he kissed her temple, whilst all members of the team stood in the snow and stared up in varying degrees of dread at their holiday home.

"Please Skye," Ward said softly, his eyes widening to punctuate his plea as he captured both of Skye's hands in his own, "just give it twenty-four hours, for me? If it sucks and we have an awful time, we'll leave tomorrow and check into a motel somewhere."

Skye paused, chewing on her bottom lip as she shot another glance at the cabin and then back up at Ward, who was wearing such a comically pleading expression that she couldn't help the smile that cracked her otherwise stony visage.

"Okay, okay," she relented, rolling her eyes, "you don't have to cry about it or whatever."

Coulson knocked on the window of the SUV with a bare knuckle, pressing his nose against the pane seconds later in order to holler inside to May, "See, Skye's game!"

"Skye is not game," the woman in question retorted, wheeling around to face Coulson, "Skye is mentally counting down the hours, minutes and seconds until she can blow this condemned popsicle stand, possibly literally with an armful of C4."

"Come on... Where's your Christmas spirit?" Coulson encouraged, face slipping down the glass as May stabbed her finger against the controls and the window opened more rapidly than he'd expected.

Eyebrow arched, May regarded him, danger oozing from every pore.

"My Christmas spirit? It's..." she replied, her expletive laden response muffled by the sound of the window whirring back up again.

Huffing and puffing as he unloaded their suitcases from atop the SUV, Fitz scrambled down with a case almost as large as he was clutched precariously in his hands. Eyes darting between Coulson and the dilapidated shack before them, he folded his arms across his chest - a somewhat comical sight given his pale blue snow jacket and powder blue, patterned mittens.

"I'm not sharing a room with them," he nodded pointedly at Skye and Ward, who were standing pressed up against each other, engaged in a whispered conversation that he was certain contained promises of very bad, possibly mentally scarring activities.

Skye was staring up at Grant with the kind of doe-eyed gaze that made the rest of the team bilious, and Fitz quickly scanned the cabin for any signs of errant mistletoe sprigs that might precipitate tongue laden shenanigans.

"Come on, then. It's freezing out here!" Jemma directed, shivering for effect before taking the lead and striding towards the paint chipped steps, hold-all clasped in her hand.

"It's probably warmer out here than it is in there," Skye muttered, sighing heavily and expelling a cloud of smoke from her lips in the process as she set out towards the porch steps. Ward followed behind her, hands jammed into the pockets of his snow jacket. As they walked, his eyes roved the overhanging beams forming the porch ceiling, checking the stability of the structure, although he would be loathed to admit it.

May, however, remained stubbornly seated in the car, her eyes locked straight ahead through the windscreen as she blasted the heating on full along with Carol of the Bells at high volume.

"You're missing out, May!" Coulson called from the porch towards the SUV, a tinge of hope in his voice. The only response May seemed willing to give was the raising of her right hand, which was so obscured by the enormous mitten swathing it that Coulson could not see the middle finger standing pointedly erect in his direction.

"Please yourself!" he called back, trudging through the snow behind his team with a smile affixed in place that practically dared them all not to have fun.

"We're gonna have a fun, old-fashioned, family Christmas!" he announced jovially, catching the somewhat surprised expression on FitzSimmons' faces.

"Uh... sir? Aren't you Jewish?" Simmons asked carefully, watching as he pushed the key into the lock, and it opened to reveal a wall of welcoming heat from inside that signalled at least the furnace appeared to be in working order.

"Not the point, Simmons," Coulson shook his head, stepping into the rather kitsch hallway, which had been decorated with streams of holiday garlands and foliage, and even boasted a rotund looking Santa atop a very ornamental display.

"See? Not so bad," Ward soothed, raising both eyebrows at Skye as he hustled her into the warmth.

Skye swept her gaze around the rooms, "It looks like Martha Stewart threw up in here!"

"Okay, go pick your bedrooms, kids!" Coulson called, taking off his gloves and beaming delightedly as he found an enormous Christmas tree in the living room that had been left with boxes of baubles and ornaments, as per his instructions. After all, what better team building exercise than decorating a Christmas tree?!

Skye raised a hand, as though she were a small child in class waiting for the teacher to call on her. When Coulson raised an eyebrow in her direction, she inquired sulkily, "Could I just be grounded? I can get really, really wasted if that will help my case?"

Coulson's previous smile melted into a frown, and Ward wasted no time in seizing Skye's arm in order to begin steering her towards the hallway, from which the bedrooms branched off, two either side.

Coulson set down his bags in the centre of the lounge area, finally beginning to feel a sense of hope kindling in the pit of his stomach. He was certain they could make this work, and carve out for themselves the perfect family Christmas that they all deserved. Jewish or not.

FitzSimmons appeared in the lounge minutes later, as Coulson was shedding his layers of outdoor clothing and preparing to get to work lighting a log fire in the grate.

"Can we do anything to help, sir?" Simmons inquired, arching a brow as she watched their boss struggle free of a long scarf that was wound at least three times around his neck.

As Coulson opened his mouth to reply, the front door opened abruptly, slamming against the opposing wall and causing the Christmas tree to dangerously sway. May stood on the threshold, murder in her eyes and a snarl on her lips.

"Why won't the SUVs start, Phil?" she growled, stalking into the lounge a few paces.

Grinning, Coulson folded his arms across his Rudolph sweater clad chest and raised both brows as he replied, "Gee, I really couldn't say, Melinda. Did you check under the hoods?"

FitzSimmons stared in wide-eyed terror at May as she stalked forwards with the kind of poise and calm that conveyed she was about to very seriously lose her temper. Or her shit, if Skye were narrating this exchange.

"What did you do, Phillip?!" she seethed, jaw set as she snarled through her bared teeth.

"May, come on, you're overreacting. Come and sit down, have a glass of eggnog, and we can decorate the tree together," he argued, watching as Fitz pointed with this thumb towards the bedrooms, and he and Jemma sidled out as quickly as possible.

Safely shut away behind the door of the furthest bedroom, Skye and Ward dropped their belongings onto the floor, taking in their frilly and floral surroundings with shared disdain.

"God, Raina would love this place," Skye drawled, sweeping a gloved hand over the surface of the dresser, which appeared to be clean enough. She surveyed the flowery drapes and couldn't help but imagine her former nemesis fashioning dresses out of them, much like Julie Andrews. Suddenly spying the metal framed bed, Skye smirked as she watched Ward throw off his jacket, and she quickly flung off her own coat, gloves, and woollen hat. She bounced herself down onto the mattress with almost childlike exuberance, giggling as the springs protested noisily.

Jumping up and down experimentally, she glanced at Ward sharply when she declared, "Okay, this may be a problem."

Catching her inference, Ward smirked, sitting down beside Skye and moving closer as if to kiss her, his hand cradling her jaw.

"We'll make it work," he promised huskily, mirroring her smile as he gazed down at her and claimed her lips with a ravenous kiss.

Skye wasted no time in looping her arms around his neck, content that the bickering echoing from the other end of the cabin indicated they were unlikely to be disturbed for at least the next thirty minutes. Sinking back against the pillows, she pulled Ward down with her, groaning wantonly into his mouth as his tongue swept against hers. Her legs locked around his hips and she arched her back to meet his movements as she felt him hard and wanting against her core. Breaking away to catch her breath, she grinned before sliding a hand down between them and squeezing him through the fabric of his jeans.

"Wow... needy much, Ward?" she teased, chuckling as he kissed her again and this time she shivered whilst his hand slid beneath her shirt then dipped down into the small of her back.

"It's been a couple of days," he replied, eyes laden with desire. Skye nodded in agreement and pulled him down for another kiss that indicated she'd been just as frustrated that events had conspired against their usual activities. Pushing him back, she met his questioning gaze with a smile, trailing her finger down his chest and looping it into the belt buckle of his jeans. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pulled him to stand between her thighs, very slowly raising her gaze from his crotch to his face.

"Well, since I'm such an awesome girlfriend, I guess I can help you out with that..." She licked her lips suggestively, and he almost winced in anticipation.

"Skye," he began, about to argue that they'd be heard, or interrupted, or that her impromptu suggestion hadn't made him harder than he'd ever been in his life. Yet as her hands deftly opened his belt buckle and yanked down the zip, he found his fingers tangling in her hair, and his heart began to hammer in his chest.

She'd just dipped her hand into his boxer briefs and curled her fingers around his length, poised to usher him into her warm and welcoming mouth, when...

"Bloody Hell! It's enormous!"

The bedroom door flew open, almost splintering off it's hinges, leaving the stunned pair motionless as Fitz ran into the room, eyes wide in panic. However, the sight before him proved just as horrific and, as his eyes bulged and his arms flailed at his face, he let out another scream before he ran full pelt down the hallway towards the still bickering Coulson and May.

"Fitz!" Simmons could be heard screeching as she bolted down the corridor in her partner's wake, mercifully not pausing in the threshold of Ward and Skye's doorway.

Ward's fly was up within record time and, much to his credit, he ploughed into the hallway despite his own embarrassment in order to defend Fitz from whatever evil was trailing him. He was thoroughly unprepared, however, for the sight that greeted him; a grey squirrel tearing down the hall and chattering furiously as it slipped and slid this way and that on the rugs lining the floorboards.

"It bit me! It bit me!" Fitz yelped from the lounge, where May was attempting to restrain him in order to examine his thumb, which the scientist was holding aloft in the air in a somewhat protective manner.

"Catch it, someone!" Simmons squealed, equally as horrified as her best friend as the animal tore towards them into the lounge. With a high pitched shriek that seemed only to anger the rampaging rodent further, Jemma hopped onto the sofa, standing on the cushions in order to stay clear of the creature.

"Does someone have an ICER?" Coulson hollered above the din, his eyes wide as he advanced on the squirrel, holding his cardigan out in front of himself in preparation to throw it over the tiny, fluffy intruder.

"What do you want an ICER for?" Skye demanded, skidding to a stop in the doorway. Coulson appeared not to have properly thought his demand through, however.

"Well, I'm gonna catch it in the coat and... shoot it with the ICER! Or... maybe just...hit it with it?"

An airy squeal left Jemma's body and, in seconds, her horrified expression had melted away just as she slid to the floor, tumbling backwards off the couch and into a boneless heap on the ground.

"Great job, Phil!" May shook her head angrily, pushing Fitz in Skye's direction as she and Ward went to attend to their second casualty, who was murmuring incoherently a jumble of animal rights protests.

Rolling his eyes, Coulson looked down at the ground, preparing to advance on the bushy-tailed stowaway, only to find that the little creature had made a rather sensible exit.

"Where the hell did it go?"

Skye shrugged, rubbing her hands up and down her arms as a chill overcame her. "I don't know, I guess he wasn't real receptive to being bludgeoned to death. Seriously, shame on you, D.C."

"I saw a crisis and I reacted, okay?" Coulson retorted, shaking his head as he gestured over to Fitz, who was cradling his apparently maimed hand. "What's the damage over there, May?"

"Didn't even break the skin. I'm thinking we don't have to amputate," May answered stonily, hauling Jemma up from underneath her arms whilst Ward obligingly stayed at her side in order to thwart another unceremonious descent to the ground.

"Rabies! I could have rabies!" Fitz protested, waving his hand under Coulson's nose and narrowly missing striking the director in the face. "And, to make matters worse, I saw…"

"On the news that squirrels can rip out a guy's throat whilst they sleep," Skye ground out pointedly, glaring at Fitz with evident murderous intent in order to prevent him spilling what he had witnessed out loud. Slowly, the Scot swallowed the lump of bile that had risen in his throat and nodded his head.

"Aye… that's exactly what I heard," he muttered, moving slowly into the corner of the room and perching himself on the edge of an armchair.

"Look, can we at least try to make the best of this?" Coulson pleaded, eyes wide and sparkling as he turned to each team member in turn with his imploring expression, "how many people can say they had a Christmas vacation cherry picked by Santa Claus himself?"

"Not many on this side of the funny farm bars," Skye grumbled, shaking her head as she realised that the rest of her team mates, except a very cynical looking May, were vehemently nodding their heads.

Coulson threw his bright red cardigan onto the back of the couch and regarded all of his team in turn.

"Look, there was an email... there was a reservation, everything was paid for and somehow our holiday leave was already approved…" he explained for perhaps the tenth time that day. "FitzSimmons, I know you guys were bummed that you couldn't go home to England for the holidays. Skye and Ward, you've never had a real family Christmas before... and May, well... frankly you need to lighten up a little. Let loose, have fun. Come on, this is supposed to be a bonding experience, it's not a hostage situation. If you don't want to be here, the front door is that way..."

He gestured towards the hall, slightly nervous that all five would seize the opportunity to flee.

"But if you're gonna stay, you have to invest in this... in a fun, old-fashioned, family Christmas."

Skye looked up sourly at Ward and pursed her lips, "You said that already. But… fine. Don't think though that just cos you keep using the word 'fun', that any of this IS."

Rubbing his hands together gleefully, Coulson nodded towards the tree. "Now, let's get some eggnog and trim this tree, huh?"

"Great," Skye grumbled, rolling her eyes as she toed the box of decorations with the tip of her foot.

"I suppose," relented Fitz, still shooting Skye suspicious sideways glances and doing his utmost to prevent himself from looking at Ward, who seemed genuinely enthused by the prospect of decorating a Christmas tree.

"Lovely, I'll get the egg nog, then," Simmons said, smoothing down her flannel shirt and heading in the direction of the kitchen, "I brought plenty of lactose free almond nog for Fitzy."

"Almond nog?" Skye mouthed, wrinkling her nose at Coulson, who also looked momentarily appalled at the prospect. "Gross."

But all too soon the S.H.I.E.L.D. director was overcome with the festive spirit once again, and was busying himself with unwinding a massive, knotted ball of twinkle lights.

"Little knot here," he mumbled out loud, dumping the mass of lights onto May's knee. She sighed aloud with as much exasperation as was humanly possible.

Glancing up as Ward moved to her side, Skye smiled when he fastened his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. Planting her hand on his chest she leant up on tip toe and pressed a tender kiss against his lips.

"You know, I'm pretty sure this holiday is gonna suck..." she paused and smirked at her accidental inference to their earlier incident, "but… I get to spend it with you, and that makes it totally worth whatever seasonal hell DC's about to put us all through."

Ward smiled, a response forming on his lips quickly and yet dying there unspoken when he heard his boss curse loudly from the corner, where the fire was refusing to light in the hearth.

Dismissing the task at hand momentarily, Coulson stood up and brushed off his pants. Both Skye and Ward watched in horror as Phil donned a Santa hat, and returned his attention to the decorations waiting to be unpacked. A sinking feeling overcame the young hacker, who was anticipating the next few days of enforced merriment with the kind of dread she generally reserved for 5am training sessions. Lips pulled into a tight line, Skye gratefully accepted the glass of eggnog Simmons offered in her direction.

Swallowing down half the glass in a single gulp, she stared hesitantly at the enormous fir tree as she croaked through the after burn of cheap liquor, "Ho, ho, ho."


	4. Chapter 4

****Part Four****

"Why are you neglecting the top of the tree!? Space out the decorations, people. It's not a difficult concept," Melinda May snapped, a frustrated noise escaping her throat as she seized a bauble that had been placed far too close to a twin, and carefully repositioned it.

"But May, Fitz can't reach the top of the tree," Jemma complained, an indignant tone colouring her voice, despite the glare May directed at her.

"Then Fitz should stand on a chair," Melinda replied through tightly gritted teeth, pausing to snap her fingers at Skye, who had been preparing to hang a candy cane on a lower branch, once again neglecting the upper levels of the fir tree.

"It's like decorating with children," snarled May, slapping at Skye's hand, "no, stop grouping similar items. Why aren't you listening?"

"Hey!" Skye rounded on her former S.O., hand planted on her hip and an ornament dangling precariously from her finger. "Don't make D.C. break out the 'f' word again. _Fun_! This is meant to be fun. So go be tree Nazi somewhere else."

Huffing irritably, May strode off towards the kitchen, muttering under her breath as she cast one last, lingering, irritated glance at the tree. Skye hung the final decoration from the box and stepped back to cast a far more appreciative eye over the fir tree that was now swathed in baubles, twinkly lights, and festive swags. Catching Ward staring up almost thoughtfully at the star on the top, Skye cajoled him gently with her elbow.

"Bet this is nothing compared to the Christmas trees at Wayne Manor, huh?" she joked, smiling as he moved behind her and secured his arms around her waist, pulling her back into the warmth of his chest.

"My parents hired people to put up the trees. It was all for appearances... like most of their lives, I guess," he lamented, sighing as he inhaled the scent of her shampoo and buried his lips into her hair.

"Christmas trees were one tradition I actually got to participate in during my crappy excuse for a childhood," Skye replied, leaning back into Ward's body and letting out a breath as she added, "I spent a couple of Christmases with foster families. They were kind of the worst ones. Made me realise just how much I didn't belong when they started hauling out the stockings with names on and the three billion decorations their real kids had made at kindergarten."

Ward nodded, scowling as he digested Skye's words and not for the first time considered how very unfair fate had been to them both during their formative years.

"Ah ah ah," Simmons chided loudly, gently and playfully smacking Skye's shoulder as she pressed another glass of eggnog into her hand, "no moping, it's in Coulson's perfect family Christmas handbook, I believe."

"Sorry, guys," apologised Skye with a smile forming on her lips as she looked from Jemma to Fitz and back again. "So, what kind of traditions did you guys have back home in merry old England?"

"Scotland," Fitz corrected, shaking his head as he muttered under his breath, "why do you Americans think the only country that exists over there is England? There are four others!"

"Geez," Skye shot Fitz a dark look, biting back a grin as she resurrected her rather painful attempt at a Scottish accent, "nah nid tu git saw crrranky, laddie!"

Jemma swallowed her mouthful of eggnog with a grimace, and she and Fitz simply stared at each other in horror, neither quite sure of what they had just heard.

"I will pay you all the money in the world to never, ever, ever do that again," Fitz stared at her levelly, certain that were he to check, his eardrums would be bleeding.

"He's got a point," Ward agreed, widening his eyes to plead his defence as she rounded on him and muttered 'traitor' playfully under her breath. He hugged her in response and pressed a kiss to her neck, which seemed to placate her. Suddenly smirking to herself, Skye gestured emphatically at the box of decorations they had yet to explore, where a plastic sprig of mistletoe could be seen poking out of the top corner.

"Hey, you know what we're missing? Mistletoe!"

Fitz followed her gaze and groaned aloud, "Oh... do we really have to? Like you two need an excuse to examine each other's tonsils."

"Well, this is nice," Coulson cooed as he walked through the doorway of the lounge, a tray of treats balanced on one arm. He would have claimed that the sugar cookies, brownies and peppermint creams had been crafted by his own fare hands, but Melinda had seen him purchase them at the gas station half way to their destination, and had already threatened to snitch on him if he so much as attempted it.

"I guess it's not _so_ bad," Skye admonished, grinning as she stole a brownie from the tray and began to nibble off the chocolate marshmallow frosting.

"And I don't think she's saying that because she's chugged her way through a whole carton of egg nog either," Ward added, grinning as Skye swatted at him with her free hand, although she was far too invested in demolishing her brownie to put up a real fight.

"Go on then, what's next in line for our evening of good old fashioned family fun?" Fitz pressed, rubbing his hands together in genuine anticipation. "Board games? Did you bring Monopoly?"

It was true that the email had landed in Coulson's inbox quite unexpectedly following Santa's disappearance from the base, but the very fact that the trip to Mount Snow had been all expenses paid, and that each agent had mysteriously had the same period of Christmas leave reserved and approved on the S.H.I.E.L.D. internal system, meant that Coulson had been prepared to throw himself into it all. He had recalled Santa's words as he had sat at his desk, staring at an online brochure of their cabin and resort; 'I think perhaps you all need a little vacation.' It was undeniably true, Phil had been almost loathed to admit. Whilst Ward and Skye had been relentlessly moving the Secret Warriors from strength to strength over the past few months, May had been conspicuous in her absence thanks to the senior teaching position she had accepted at the academy, working directly under Romanoff, who was not known for her gentle managerial spirit. Meanwhile, Fitz had been chained to the lab at the Playground, creating and tinkering with a number of decidedly deadly new toys thanks to a hefty budget bequeathed to him by the head of the science department, whilst Simmons herself was almost buckling under the pressure of having been appointed head of Biological Engineering.

Their combined workloads meant that those of the team who did still possess a biological family could not possibly hope to be able to see them over the holiday period, and those that didn't would be more likely to simply bury themselves in their work to wait out all the festive merriment that they would not be a part of. In fact, rebuilding S.H.I.E.L.D. and bringing it back into a more positive public light seemed to have taken over all of their lives so completely and thoroughly that gone were the days of weekly team dinners, movie nights in the rec. room, and games evenings where the losers found themselves drinking shots of Patron as a consequence for sucking at charades. Everything had changed, and Coulson found himself often yearning for those uncomplicated days back on the Bus, where the world was their oyster, and they had functioned as a literal family unit as they explored it.

"Nice…" Coulson once again repeated airily, his grin contagious but also bordering on manic, "this is just so… nice."

"Careful, Phil, your 'Dad' is showing," May observed as she loomed from behind him and plucked a handful of peppermint creams from the tray.

"Oh my God, this is so good," Skye enthused, lifting up the brownie towards Ward's mouth to allow him to take a bite. He nodded in agreement, smiling against her mouth as she craned her neck and kissed him, licking residual frosting from his lip with a 'yummy' noise that drew a series of coughs from the two scientists.

"You know..." Fitz began, wrinkling his nose as he watched them exchange further kisses and whispers that he was certain he wanted to know nothing about if the blush on Skye's cheek was anything to go by. "I think I liked it better when you two were trying to kill each other."

"Fitz..." Jemma laughed, whacking him on the chest before she lowered her voice and continued. "Skye seems... content. Let's be happy for them, eh? And yes, I know... I tried to do the... the thing... with the... thing," she alluded to her unfortunate assassination attempt with a cluster bomb with bright red cheeks, "but it's water under the bridge now... right, Ward?"

She turned to the couple, clearing her throat and pointedly averting her gaze as she found them caught up in a kiss that she was certain bordered on being pornographic. Placing the platter of sweet snack foods down onto the coffee table, Coulson held up his hands and deftly side-stepped the pair, kneeling before the fire grate as he rolled up his sleeves with obvious purpose.

"Alright... let's get this fire lit, shall we?"

May folded her arms across her chest and nodded pointedly towards Skye and Ward who seemed to have finally drawn apart - at least from the lips, anyway.

"Think we might want to put that one out first." She rolled her eyes, taking a seat next to Simmons and hastily perusing the platter before she swiped up a brownie square, which she bit into it with relish.

"Phil... Do you have any idea what you're doing?" May pressed.

Coulson turned and shot her a wholly irritated glare, "Yes, thank you very much, of course I do. Eagle Scout, right here!"

"Uh-huh," she nodded, pursing her lips, "you ever started a fire before?"

Coulson guffawed, "What? Of course I have... plenty of them."

"On purpose?" she countered, holding back a snigger as he sighed at her continually sour mood.

"You have been trying to get it going for an awfully long time, sir," Jemma said, wincing when Coulson glared at her sharply, obviously annoyed by her treachery.

"These things take time," he said, somewhat snippily, "besides, I think the kindling is a little damp."

He toyed with the oversized box of matches for several more seconds before groaning in frustration and slamming them down on the floor.

"I might have just the thing," Fitz offered, brushing crumbs off his trousers as he stood up and advanced towards the grate, his eyes beginning to gleam in a tell-tale manner.

"Oooh, the new multi-use fuel compound you've been working on?" Jemma pressed, her own excitement growing now that all things science had once again returned to the forefront of the conversation.

"I have a few samples in my duffel bag, just in case," Fitz admitted, grinning as Jemma bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, clapping her hands quickly together as though he had just offered her diamonds.

"I've been dying to see it in the field," she said in a rush, "quick, go and get some, we'll…"

"Guys, whilst I admire your sudden enthusiasm… this isn't the field," Coulson interjected, frowning as worry clouded his features. "First off, what the hell are you talking about? And second… are you sure that what the hell you are talking about is safe? Inside an enclosed, wooden, highly flammable building, with a single escape route?"

Simmons nodded excitedly, "Oh, absolutely sir. It's been vigorously tested in the labs... under level 4 containment protocol, of course... and we were all wearing flame resistant suits... and there was that small incident with the lab assistant, but she's fine now and she can still braid her hair, so... all things considered..."

Coulson glanced between the other three agents, all of whom wore similar expressions of concern, yet as Fitz bustled through, small, plastic squirty bottle in hand, he wasted no time in dousing the errant logs in the fireplace with a healthy amount of the mystery fuel.

"Uh, Fitz... that seems like an awful lot of... highly flammable, experimental accelerant," the S.H.I.E.L.D. director warned, feeling suitably nervous as Skye and May took measured steps back from the fireplace, both searching out the nearest exit with their eyes.

"All fine and dandy," Simmons assured him, jamming her hands into pockets and beaming as she anticipated the welcome warmth from the fire that would soon be raging in the grate.

"Go ahead, sir," Fitz encouraged, stepping back with a smile in place, "all ready to light now. She won't give you any more problems."

Coulson simply stared into the hearth, heart hammering in his chest as he registered the weight of the box of matches in his hand and his mind worked at a mile a minute as he attempted to build up the courage to approach the kindling.

Finally, he looked up, gazing imploringly at Melinda as he inquired, "Is it really that cold? I mean, we all packed extra sweaters, right?"

Rolling his eyes, Ward stepped forwards, already pushing up his sleeves as he approached the fire, which Coulson was now regarding with apparent trepidation.

"Here, let me," Ward offered, holding out one hand towards the fireplace before FitzSimmons' collective cry of alarm had even managed to bubble up in their throats.

"Ward, no!" Simmons yelped, far too late, as sparks shot from Ward's fingers and landed on the wood, which had been doused so liberally with Fitz's luminous mystery fluid that it was dripping onto the stone hearth.

Skye heard the resultant fireball before she saw it, but once the initial shock had warn off and she blinked, a strangled scream left her lungs as she saw Ward engulfed in a blazing inferno.

"GRANT!"

Coulson, of course, was more focused on the innocent bystander in the equation, who was now also very much alight.

"MY TREE!" he hollered, horror dominating his expression.

Running out to the kitchen, May went in search of the fire extinguisher she'd seen stowed away in one of the cabinets, leaving FitzSimmons and Coulson to blow, huff, puff, and otherwise flap at the blazing Christmas tree to little effect. Meanwhile, Ward shed his smouldering clothing and Skye stamped out the residual flames that threatened the wooden floorboards.

"Are you okay?" Skye shouted, glaring contemptuously at their friends, who seemed more concerned with burning foliage than the man quite literally on fire before them.

"Fine. I'm fine," he reassured her, frowning as she slapped at his jeans, where flames still kissed his skin and left the fabric blackened and laden with holes. May sped back into the room, fire extinguisher poised in her hands.

"Move, idiots!" she fumed, letting rip with the foam nozzle until the poor, bedraggled tree looked like it had been caught up in a blizzard.

"What the fuck was that?" Skye demanded, levelling an accusatory glare at FitzSimmons and Coulson in turn. "Man LITERALLY on fire over here, and you guys are more concerned with the damn tree?"

Coulson was panting and shaking his head mournfully as he stared back at the black twigs that had once been his prized Christmas fir. Baubles fell from charred string, landing on the ground into a sea of melting foam.

"His codename's Hellfire! He's a walking cigarette lighter!"

"Nice to know you care, Phil," Ward snapped, his arms and hands quickly moving to cover his crotch, where a pair of blackened, holey and tattered boxers were all that remained to preserve his modesty.

"You, find some garbage bags," May barked, pointing at Simmons, who dared not argue with the enraged Specialist.

"You, go put some clothes on," continued May, turning to Ward, who she gave a cursory glance to in order to check that he had managed to extinguish himself of all flames. In the next moment, she rounded on Fitz, her eyes as ablaze as Coulson's tree had been only seconds before.

"And you, hand over every last gadget, gizmo and potentially devastating chemical compound that you brought with you," she demanded, hand out as she tapped her foot on the floor, looking every inch the outraged parental figure that she feared she had been reduced to.

"You can't take my things!" Fitz yelped as Ward disappeared from the lounge, Skye aiding him in covering his half bare rear with a scatter cushion.

"Consider them confiscated, for our safety as much as your own," May retorted, folding her arms and glaring at the scientist with such ferocity that he shrank back, "you can have them back when we get home. Maybe."

"It's not fair, Coulson, tell her!" Fitz whined, swallowing hard at the expression on his boss's face, which managed to be both crest-fallen and enraged at the same time. Huffing out a sigh, he nodded forlornly, and he and Simmons scampered off towards their room to ferret out the lab equipment they'd managed to sneak into their duffels.

"It was so beautiful," Coulson stared at the mess that now stood in the corner of the room, lifting up his foot and grimacing at the water and foam that soaked his shoe.

"There, there," May placated him tonelessly.

In the far safer and less smoke filled confines of their room, Skye sat on the bed and leaned back on her hands, waiting for Ward to emerge from the adjoining bathroom. He had decided on a brisk shower in order to rid his hair and skin of the unmistakable stenches of burning that came as a natural consequence of his powers. And of turning into a human fireball at the incompetent hands of over zealous rocket scientists.

"Grant?" Skye called out, inhaling the smell of his shower gel with a faintly contented smile - a scent far more appealing than the singed aroma that had lingered over his skin, making him smell more like an all you can eat barbecue grill. "Everything okay in there?"

The door was closed ajar so that the steam from the hot water spilled out into the bedroom, suddenly making Skye realise just how cold she actually was. She tugged the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands and shivered. She drew herself upright and shuddered as the door opened, and Ward walked into their room clad in only a large, white fluffy towel.

"You cold?" he frowned, using the smaller towel in his hand to dry his thick, dark hair, where water droplets still lingered.

"Guess we know you're not," she chuckled and rolled her eyes, nodding instead and getting up to rifle through their case for her warmest but possibly least sexy pyjamas.

"I'd offer to light the fire but…" Ward dead panned, chuckling at the expression that crossed Skye's features.

"Ugh, we haven't even been here twelve hours yet and this is already a disaster," she complained, a triumphant cry leaving her lips when she located her fluffy, snowflake adorned pyjamas from the bottom of her case.

"I meant what I said," Grant replied, beginning to tug on his clothing quickly, noticing the distinct chill in the air himself despite his usually higher than average body temperature courtesy of his powers. "We only have to stick this out for one night. Tomorrow morning, we can leave. At least then Coulson can't say we haven't given this whole thing a chance."

Skye nodded, running her hands through to the ends of her wild waves in an attempt to tame them after having pulled her pyjama top over her head.

"I guess, you're right," she conceded, unballing an extra pair of socks and wriggling into them as she pressed, "but you can't really be serious about this whole Santa thing? I mean, you're thirty-four, Ward. You had that talk already, right?"

Smiling, Ward finished buckling up his belt before scooping his damp towel off the floor and beginning to drape it over the radiator. His expression was faintly thoughtful and he remained quiet as he disappeared into the bathroom to tidy up after himself. Skye relaxed back against the pillows, waiting patiently for Grant to re-emerge. When he did, moments later, there was a look of indecision flickering across his face.

"I never did show you my final gift from Santa, did I?" Ward asked softly, nostalgia wrapped around his voice and the smile that affected his lips.

Poking him in his impossibly hard abs, she grinned up at him with an impish smile.

"Okay, but you might wanna put a shirt on, cos I can't concentrate when you're standing there looking all tall and... firm," she poked him again experimentally, and he captured her hand and pressed a kiss into the centre of her palm.

"That a bad thing?" he asked, leaning over her and moving closer as if to kiss her. She smiled against his lips, feeling the chill disperse from her skin as his kisses set every nerve in her body alight, like each cell hummed as a consequence of his proximity.

"Uh-uh," she shook her head, hugging him back when he moved to embrace her. She found herself enjoying their closeness and the feel of his arms protectively around her.

Suddenly smacking him on the rear, she demanded, "Okay, show me your super secret, super special gift from Santa. And it better not be socks."

Dropping one final kiss to the top of her head, he walked wordlessly over to his bag and began to search through it, quickly finding what he was looking for.

"I was eleven... it'd been a pretty bad year. Christian was..." he trailed off, a haunted look in his eyes that arrested her heart. Enclosing her hand around his, she dipped her head to catch his gaze, and he smiled despite the memory as he deposited the small, golden object into her palm.

"Anyway... Christmas morning, this was under the tree with a handwritten card with my name on it."

Lifting the circular item up to eye level, Skye frowned as she ran the pad of her thumb over the smooth, gold casing.

"A compass?"

Ward nodded, standing at her side so he could snap open the clasp on the front of it.

"Look inside..." he directed, waiting for her to read the inscription aloud.

"Ward, this is beautiful!" she exclaimed, taken aback by the exquisite detail in the etching that covered the edge of the dial, complete with a raised bubble in the centre that almost looked like it contained one single, glistening snowflake.

Tipping it back so she could read the slightly faded inscription on the inside, she said softly, " ' _ _Grant, to help you find your true north. S.C.'__ S.C.? Santa Claus? I don't get it. True north?"

He nodded slowly, as if he too were having trouble believing the words that were about to leave his lips.

"Look at where it's pointing..." he directed, watching as Skye turned the compass repeatedly in her hands and side-stepped in a circle. Yet the arrow stubbornly refused to be deterred. "It's pointing at you, Skye."

Skye remained silent, a lump rising in her throat despite her very best efforts to suck in a steadying breath and ignore the flood of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her where she stood. Blinking back the moisture that had pooled in the corners of her eyes, Skye carefully closed the compass and wrapped her hands around Grant's.

"It's a nice story, and I'm glad if it's brought you comfort over the years, Grant," she said softly, quietly, "but it's not enough for me."

"I understand," Ward replied, moving towards Skye and dropping the compass carefully down on the bed before he encircled her in his arms. She pressed her face into his chest, breathing in the steadying and comforting scent of him.

"There were no presents under the tree for me… or special cards with inspirational crap written in them when I needed it most," Skye explained, struggling to keep her voice even and free from the sadness that weighed down her heart, "it was just… lonely and hard."

"That thing's saved my life more times than I can remember. Out in the woods... on missions. It's always seemed to get me where I needed to be," he explained, rubbing her back as he added, "but I know you can't believe right now, and that's okay."

She nodded miserably, pressing her face into the crook of his neck as he rubbed her back in a soothing gesture, gathering her so close that it was hard for either to take a deep breath. He felt her tears land on his skin and his heart sank.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry people hurt you. I'm sorry I hurt you," his breath ghosted her ear as he rocked them gently from side to side. She clung to him desperately, her cheek against his chest, eager to hear his heart beating beneath her ear - hungry for the reassurance it brought her.

"It's not like you had the best time, either, Grant," she sniffed back tears that had been long overdue, sweeping her hand over his chest and caressing his back in what she hoped was a gesture of tenderness. "Never again, okay? We look out for each other."

Ward caressed her cheekbone, gently sliding his fingertips under her chin to lift her gaze to his.

"I can't change the past, Skye, I can't fix my mistakes, but I promise I'm gonna spend the rest of my life making you happy. And maybe... maybe one day you'll realise just how much I love you," his lips brushed gently against hers, "how much I want you."

"I do," Skye murmured, bumping the tips of their noses together before she sucked in a breath that she hoped would aid her in gathering her errant emotions.

"Maybe I'll even get you that pony," Ward joked, adding rapidly at Skye's sudden delighted grin, "one day way, way in the future."

"Spoil sport," teased Skye, brushing at her wet cheeks whilst Ward pulled his sweater on over his head and began to drag his fingers through his wet, tousled hair.

Suddenly appearing in front of him, Skye halted his movements and began to comb her own fingers carefully through his hair, smiling as she surveyed his handsome face and he looked at her with such fondness that her heart skipped a beat.

"So, even though I think this whole Santa thing is bull crap, I'm gonna work on being less of a Grinch and general pain in the ass. It's Christmas time, and we're together, and... I guess we are kind of a family, you, me, and the morons out there," she smiled, not unkindly, as she thought about their friends.

"Thank you," he gathered her hands in his and kissed them, keeping hold of one and interlocking their fingers as they began to stroll slowly back towards the living room and the smell of burnt fir.

"But next year, Grant, we're going to Hawaii."


	5. Chapter 5

****Miracle on 084 Street****

 ** **Part Five****

To say that Coulson had taken the loss of his much coveted Christmas tree badly was an understatement of monumental proportions. By the time Skye and Grant had ambled from their bedroom, hand in hand and talking quietly, there was a flurry of activity occurring in the lounge that could be heard clearly from down the hallway, which didn't bode well.

"Will you just put your damn coat down and stop being so ridiculous?" May's voice could be heard demanding, shortly followed by a series of guttural grunts that indicated some kind of struggle was taking place. Exchanging glances, Grant and Skye quickened their paces, arriving in the lounge to find May and Coulson literally wrestling over his jacket.

"May, I am ordering you to give me back my jacket," Coulson all but snarled, rage alight on his features that it appeared could not be quelled even by the death stare that The Cavalry had levelled at him. Abruptly, the woman let go of the jacket, sending Coulson tumbling backwards onto the couch with his prize in hand. Not to be thwarted, he sprang to his feet and tugged on the heavy coat, already half way to the door before Skye and Ward set foot in the room.

"Sir, you can't be serious, it's snowing again, for crying out loud. It's practically a blizzard out there!" Simmons attempted to protest, although her pleas seemed to be falling on deaf ears as Coulson continued to barrel towards the front door, muttering unintelligibly under his breath.

The door slammed shut, followed moments later by a shelf of heavy snow falling with a thud against the glass panel. The five assembled S.H.I.E.L.D. agents stood in silence, each wearing a look of varying degrees of concern and trepidation. Although May appeared more irritated than anything else, the sound of a chainsaw whirring into life elicited a less enthusiastic eye roll than she'd normally muster.

"Um... what the hell is he doing?" Fitz began, eyes widening even further as the unmistakable sound of the blade biting into wood pricked his ears.

"Hawaii, Grant. We could have been in Hawaii," Skye whispered, folding her arms across her chest and heaving a sigh, "warm, balmy weather, sandy beaches, grass skirts, those little drinks served in coconuts... bikinis. Did I mention I have like three new bikinis?!"

He nodded sagely, as if beginning to hate himself for suggesting they go along with Coulson's hair-brained idea.

"No, because if you had, we'd definitely be in Hawaii right now. Can't make a decision if I'm not presented with all the information, baby," he attempted a disarming smirk then cleared his throat as Skye only arched an eyebrow in response.

"He's lost his mind," Simmons stated, more than an fraction of hysteria in her voice, "it's... it's cabin fever!"

May regarded the scientist closely, as though suddenly doubting the list of qualifications on the young woman's highly impressive resume.

"We've been here six hours, and he lost that a long time ago."

"Should we offer to help him with…" Fitz paused, the frown lines on his forehead deepening with the sudden turn of his expression, "well, whatever he's doing?"

"If you wanna go talk to the insane guy wielding a chainsaw then you go right ahead," Skye declared, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she stared at Fitz, "I'm going to make more hot chocolate... away from the crazy people."

Spinning on her heel, Skye disappeared into the kitchen, where she could be heard slamming cabinet doors as she searched for mugs and the miniature marshmallows she couldn't live without. Grant hovered between the two rooms, undecided as to whether it was best to follow his girlfriend or linger in the living room to see how the situation at hand would progress. Quickly arriving at a decision, he ducked into the kitchen, realising that it was perhaps best to stay out of Coulson's way given the fact that he was indirectly responsible for their boss' current mood in the first place.

May winced as a deafening crash echoed outside the door and the roaring of the chainsaw subsided before fading altogether.

Jaw set, the Specialist tapped her foot against the hardwood floor as the sounds of grunting and the dragging of an apparently heavy object moved closer to the door.

" _He didn't_!" she snarled, fists clenching as the door flew open and Coulson finally appeared, huffing and puffing as he hauled the carcass of a snow covered fir tree into the hallway.

"I think he did," Fitz whispered to Simmons, utterly aghast at the situation.

"What the hell did you do?" May demanded, recognising the tree as having once stood in a somewhat ornamental position out front of the house. "You can't just go sawing down trees, Phil! That thing was in their damn garden!"

"I'll leave them fifty dollars," he assured her, stamping his feet to shake off excess snow before he continued to drag the tree through into the living room, leaving a trail of needles and slush behind him.

"You've officially lost it," May held up her hands, side-stepping as she moved to walk past him.

"Ward burned down my tree, we needed a tree, there are no tree lots open on Christmas Eve ... I found a solution," he shrugged, and May narrowed her eyes at the faintly manic inflection of his voice.

"You are _Jewish_ , Phil," Melinda growled through gritted teeth, her eyes burning with a kind of untold fury that usually had whoever was on the other end of it literally quaking.

"Plenty of Jewish people decorate trees these days, Melinda," he retorted, his voice rising in both octave and volume as he turned to glare back at his friend.

"You're being ridiculous," May snapped, "this is vandalism at best and criminal damage at worst."

"What are they going to do? Arrest me? I have Santa Claus on my side," Coulson replied, suddenly dissolving into the kind of laughter that could usually only be heard in the darkest depths of a criminally insane psych ward.

"I don't even know if he's being serious," Fitz whispered again to Jemma, attempting to obscure his words behind his hand. "Is he being serious?"

Nodding, Jemma hissed back, "No, it's true. I told you, I saw him with my own eyes."

Fitz smiled tightly, nodding in unwilling agreement. With lightning speed, Coulson had shoved the poor, unsuspecting fir tree inside the metal base that had held its unfortunate predecessor.

Gesturing to the box of as of yet unused ornaments and decorations, Coulson clicked his fingers impatiently at the team, "Somebody want to hand me those twinkle lights?"

"Uh, sir?" Fitz raised his hand weakly, "maybe we shouldn't put electrical... items... onto it, it looks a tad... damp?"

He mimed an explosion with his hands, fluttering his fingers out as he added a brief sound effect for good measure.

"I suppose you're right. Burning one tree down is enough for an evening," he snapped, glancing up pointedly at Skye and Ward, who lingered gingerly in the doorway. He didn't miss how Skye stood in front of her boyfriend, drawing his arms around her and holding them firmly around her waist, as if she were acting as a buffer between the two men. Ward pressed a kiss to her neck and they stood in a silent embrace, watching with a shared but concealed amusement as Coulson shrugged off his jacket and began to haphazardly throw ornaments onto the snow-logged branches.

Skye leant back, smiling at the feel of Ward's stubble against her skin, and she brushed her thumb repeatedly over the back of his hand.

"You hear that?" Skye whispered, suddenly standing straighter. Ward strained to hear what she referred to, shaking his head as he failed to detect anything out of the ordinary.

"It's a weird squeaking sound," added Skye, glancing up at him. Ward froze, cocking his head as the mysterious noise reached his own ears finally.

"What the hell is that?" he wondered as he shook his head, noting that the others seemed not to have picked up on anything unusual. He and Skye appeared to be the only ones effected so far, perhaps as a result of their heightened Inhuman senses.

"Uhm, D.C.?" Skye began, frowning as the sound only seemed to intensify and the others ignored her call. Coulson continued literally tossing ornaments at the tree, his mood a curious combination of maniacally happy and borderline enraged.

"I'm decorating!" Coulson replied, the only indication of his lingering fury being the subtle twitch of his left eye. "Simmons, hand me those snowflakes, would you?"

Obediently, SImmons reached for the box, her hand suddenly stilling halfway in mid air as loud and insistent chattering filled the room.

"What's that?" Jemma inquired, shooting a look at Skye, who was frowning at the tree in distrust.

Standing to his full height, Coulson planted his hands on his hips and looked set to give the group a piece of his mind, until a rustling in the branches caught his attention, and with a hearty shriek of fury, an enormous grey squirrel leapt from the foliage. Spinning around in a circle, Coulson flung his arms upwards and let out a scream almost as high-pitched as Jemma's. The pair bolted for the door, running through the arch with Fitz hot on their trail.

"Wait for me! Wait for me!" Fitz bellowed, tripping over the throw rug and hopping halfway towards the hall as he cursed, "bugger, bugger, bugger!"

Watching as the creature tore around the room in a seemingly demented circle, Skye too decided to flee, leaving just Ward and May standing in the centre of the room. Dropping his head towards his chest, Ward pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, anticipating that the dull throbbing he was experiencing was set to escalate to a full blown migraine. In all his years as a Specialist, he'd seldom seen people flee a scene so quickly, even in the wake of bullets, bombs, or more otherworldly dangers.

"This. This is my punishment," he griped, sighing as he glanced off towards the archway into the hall, where the four heads of his colleagues comically appeared one by one as they peeked around the corner.

"Seriously, Skye?" his eyebrows shot up to his hairline, and he regarded the leader of the Secret Warriors with an amused and altogether appalled expression.

"Hey, he's... he's the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and he's... you know... hiding," she gestured above her to where Coulson's head was positioned.

"That thing could have rabies!" Coulson defended himself, shuddering at the very idea of disease infested vermin.

"Ward, open the door, we'll herd the God-damned squirrel outside for Chicken Little," May stated, jabbing a finger in Coulson's direction as she added, "I told you nothing good would come from this."

"Just get rid of it," Coulson retorted, grabbing onto Skye's shoulders and retreating a few paces as the squirrel hopped up onto the coffee table.

Ward crossed the room in a few decisive strides, poised to fling open the front door when suddenly, he found that the situation had escalated in a way that none of them could ever have anticipated.

As the grey squirrel stood on its back legs, angrily spitting and screeching in the direction of the hallway, the subject of its ire finally appeared in the form of the bushy tailed rodent that had previously tormented FitzSimmons.

"Bloody hell, there's two of the wee bastards!" Fitz yelped, reaching blindly for Jemma's hand, only to discover that he had instead accidentally seized Coulson in a death grip.

Running towards each other, the two animals lunged into the air, grappling and squeaking furiously as the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents beat a hasty retreat from the battle scene.

"What are we going to do?" Simmons wailed, clutching Skye's arm so tightly that the young woman squealed as she felt nails digging into her flesh. She slapped Jemma away hurriedly, eyes glued to the sight of the warring woodland creatures.

"Well, I don't know about you but I'm naming that one Tony..." she pointed at the smaller of the rodents, "and that one Steve. And... my money's on Tony… he's pretty feisty."

"Not helping!" Fitz replied somewhat more urgently, looking to Ward and May for assistance as the ball of hissing and snarling fur rolled across the hallway and knocked into a table, sending a lamp hurtling to the floor. The resulting crash had the four running for the living room, where they ducked behind the two Specialists who were as yet unmoving.

Glancing to her side, May eyed her former enemy with a new sense of comradeship filling her, "Give me five minutes and I'm pretty sure I could have the SUV fixed. As much as I still hate your lying, duplicitous guts, you're annoying me less than the Scooby gang back there."

"As touching as that confession was, I can't leave her," Ward nodded towards Skye, biting back a smile as he saw the lip trembling, needy gazes that FitzSimmons levelled at him, "or those two idiots... and although ordinarily, I wouldn't really care if Coulson had his throat ripped out by rabid squirrels, I guess I did burn down his damn tree."

May snorted, only shrugging as she returned her attention to the scene, which was surreal to say the least. However, the last several days seemed to have followed a similar pattern, and so May found herself resolving to go with it rather than waste precious energy struggling against the madness.

"Fine," she huffed, rolling up the sleeves of her black sweater as she prepared to wade into the fray. Shooting a disdainful look at Skye, she commanded, "Toss me the broom from the hallway closet."

Obediently, and immensely relieved that someone who was not her had resolved to finally do something, Skye scuttled off to the closet. She reappeared seconds later wielding a broom, which she extended to May from the safety of the hallway. She had a lengthy track record of bad experiences that dated right back to her orphanage days when it came to small animals, and she was in no hurry to rehash any such occurrences in the near future.

"Open the door," called out May, beginning to jab the head of the broom at the squirrels, who showed no signs of being deterred by third party interference. In fact, 'Tony' only seemed to renew his efforts in tearing out 'Steve's' throat, his tail standing on end like a bottle brush as he faced down his fluffy foe.

Ward held open the door, careful to stand out of May's path as she approached, literally sweeping the two creatures across the polished wood and towards the exit.

"What are you doing? Don't make them angrier!" Fitz stumbled backward until he hit the wall, and he slid across the floral wallpaper in a desperate bid to reach the sanctity of the hallway again. His other cowardly colleagues followed suit, their gazes trained on May, Ward and the sources of their alarm.

"Ward..." May directed, nodding pointedly at him as he held the door open and she practically batted the two animals out into the snow. They landed with a soft thud before shaking their heads and taking off running towards the trees, all thoughts of their squabble vanquished by the crazy woman wielding a broom. Throwing the door closed with a slam, the two Specialists strolled back into the living room, May's eyebrow arched at her friends.

"Gone!"

" _Hoo_!" Fitz clutched his chest, taking deep breaths as if actually winded by the fear coursing through his veins. "That was scary!"

"Utterly terrifying. I've never been in more life threatening situations. Oh...wait," May deadpanned, tossing the broom to Simmons, who caught it with a gasp of surprise.

"Okay, so maybe the tree wasn't my best idea," Coulson announced, wincing when May's head whipped around and she glared at him with such unbridled rage that the vein in her temple began to visibly throb.

"I swear to God, Phil, one more stupid move like that and Santa Claus won't save you," she vowed, relaxing her shoulders a fraction when Coulson quickly bobbed his head.

"I know! Perhaps Fitz and I could cook everyone a spot of dinner?" Simmons suggested as she wrestled the broom back into the closet, which was full to the brink with cleaning supplies that had been jammed in at all manner of inappropriate angles.

"We could do that," Fitz agreed, pushing up the sleeves of his cardigan and rubbing his hands together as though genuinely excited by the prospect. He turned to Coulson as he probed, "You picked up supplies at the store, right?"

"Nothing too fancy but enough to make a couple of decent meals," said Coulson, eyes ticking to each member of the team as he waited for them to signal their approval of the plan. "I guess I could finish up with the new tree whilst you do that. Skye, wanna help?"

Through a wide grin, Skye replied, "I'd rather go outside and shove one of those squirrels down my pants, thanks all the same, D.C."

"Whatever," May griped, "I'm going to my room. If anyone disturbs me before I've reached chapter twelve of my book, I'll find inventive ways to combine paper cuts and waterboarding."

"Magic, well... we'll call you when dinner's ready then, eh?" Fitz declared, May's threat not managing to overshadow his eagerness to show off his cooking skills to the team. Their recent schedule hadn't left much time for their old team meals and he was keen to restart the tradition, especially with Christmas day looming on the horizon.

"Perhaps you could have a nice, hot, soothing, bubble bath?" Simmons suggested brightly, clearing her throat and mumbling 'perhaps not', as May shot her a death glare before she stomped out of the room, each loud footfall reiterating her sour mood.

Coulson set about decorating the new tree, leaving Ward and Skye to their own devices.

Gently nudging her arm, Ward said quietly, "I brought a couple of board games."

Skye's face lit up and she grinned knowingly, turning on her heel to glance up at him flirtatiously. "Is Battleship one of them, Robot?"

"Maybe," he answered evasively, beginning to walk towards the box of games he'd rescued from the common room and deposited in the corner of the lounge earlier in the day.

" _Yes_!" Skye fist-pumped the air, genuinely excited to spend the afternoon in such a leisurely pursuit. "Ohhh, you are going down, Ward!"

Smirking mischievously, Ward swept his gaze up and down her body, watching as a blush settled on her cheeks. "Maybe later... first of all I've gotta kick your ass at Battleship."

"Please! In your dreams, Grant!" Skye snorted in amusement, eagerly following as he clutched the box in his hands and carried it over to the couch. She sat down at his side, watching a faintly sentimental and oddly melancholic smile tug at his lips.

"You know... it kind of was," he explained further, staring down at her intently, "to be here with you... like this."

"I'd have picked somewhere with less frigid temperatures and a Starbucks, but okay," Skye replied, tapping Grant gently on the tip of his nose with her index finger as she teased him. Her behaviour seemed to rouse a genuine smile from her boyfriend, and he hurried to set out the game board on the nearby coffee table, where it was safe from Coulson. Their boss still danced maniacally around the newly acquired tree, tossing on raggedy strings of tinsel and the leftover ornaments that had been left off the first tree for the precise reason that they had seen better days.

"I think things could start to turn around here," Ward offered, rolling around a red peg between his fingers as he mused aloud, "after all, it's Christmas Eve, we're all here together, and we have the big guy in the red suit on our side. Things will work out. I can feel it."

"This is new," Skye answered, momentarily ignoring the mention of Santa Claus, whose existence she still could not bring herself to recognise, "Grant Ward; trained killer and... optimist."

"I guess being with you just brings it out in me," Grant said softly, face falling as he hurried to add, "not the assassin part… the positive, nice, optimistic part."

"Glad you clarified," she chuckled, leaning closer and pressing her palm to his chest before sweeping her hand over the defined muscles beneath his Henley.

"But... I kind of like all your parts," she whispered, knowing all too well the double entendre rooted in her words. She pressed her lips to his and sighed softly against his mouth as she felt his smile widen. His puff of laughter was captured in the tail end of their kiss, seconds before they drew apart.

Wrapping her arms around Grant's neck, Skye hugged him tight, closing her eyes and resting her head on his shoulder. His large hands swept soothing circles across her back, and he buried kisses repeatedly in her hair. Anything further was interrupted by the sound of Coulson pointedly clearing his throat, making as much noise as possible to convey his discomfort at being privy to their canoodling.

"Subtle, D.C.," Skye griped, rolling her eyes at Ward, who simply arched an eyebrow in the direction of their boss.

Leaning up, Skye suspended her lips above Ward's ear, caressing the strong line of his jaw with one hand as she whispered, 'I love you'. Settling back against the arm of the couch, the board grasped in her hands, Skye crossed her legs underneath her and rolled up the sleeves of her shirt to prepare for war.

Turning to face her, Ward picked up his own Battleship board and positioned it on his lap, jaw set as he strategically placed his pins. Within moments the pair were engrossed in the game, sharing stolen glances and trying their best to psych the other out as they relived a moment that seemed to have come and gone a lifetime ago. Yet with the benefit of years passed, secrets told and experiences shared, the atmosphere was relaxed and jovial in a way it never had been back on the Bus.

All too soon, delicious smells began to waft through from the kitchen, and even the makeshift tree began to look more regal and impressive, despite Coulson's deranged festive humming as he worked. And for an hour or so at least, Skye dared to feel wholly content.


	6. Chapter 6

****Miracle on 084 Street****

 ** **Part Six****

Dinner had come and gone most uneventfully, and Melinda found herself eternally thankful for that smallest of mercies. Sitting back in her seat at the fold out dining table, stomach pleasantly full with spaghetti and the bread she'd need to work off with an early morning run, she had to admit that the situation was becoming somewhat tolerable. Almost.

FitzSimmons sat adjacent to her, both growing increasingly tipsy on the wine that Coulson had provided, and both looking highly pleased with themselves due to the success of their culinary experimentation.

"Thanks guys, that was great," Ward complimented the pair, who simultaneously preened and basked in the glow of the Specialist's appreciation.

"It was," agreed Coulson, concealing a smirk as he added, "keep this up and I think we've found our volunteers for cooking Christmas dinner tomorrow."

"Oh, no," Simmons stammered, smile immediately faltering at the suggestion. She took another, hearty swig from her wine and declared, "I've never cooked a proper Christmas dinner before. My dad never lets anyone else in the kitchen. If you so much as glance at an unpeeled potato, he gets this dangerous look in his eye."

"Skye... you wanna give me a hand to cook tomorrow?! Coulson asked, looking at her so hopefully that she couldn't help but smile. She'd probably never know what it would feel like to spend Christmas with her real father, so Coulson's was as close to a paternal gesture as she was likely to receive - which was probably why she found herself eagerly agreeing.

"Uh... sure. Yeah. I can do that," she nodded, taking a sip of her own wine and wiping her finger around the smear of sauce left on her plate before sucking it with a hum of approval. "Seriously guys, that was amazing. Only thing I need now is dessert…"

She shot a sneaky sideways glance at Simmons, "So, you wanna slice up that cheesecake I saw you hide in the refrigerator earlier?"

Rolling her eyes, Simmons shook her head pointedly, "I wasn't hiding it, Skye, I was putting it in there to set... not all food comes ready prepared in a box, you know?!"

"Okay, whatever... I just need some of that..." she pointed her left hand blindly in Jemma's direction, then swapped her wine glass to that hand to enable her to point at Ward, "and snuggles on the couch."

Coulson smiled at her indulgently, as did Ward, leaving Melinda rolling her eyes at the adoring expressions on their faces as Skye drained her wine glass, oblivious to the attention. Folding her napkin neatly onto the table, May leant back and regarded Coulson, directing his gaze to his youngest, and possibly his favourite, agent.

"I blame you. You spoil her."

"What? I do not," he guffawed, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head as if it were the most ludicrous accusation he'd ever heard.

May only arched an eyebrow, as though that one simple gesture was the only response required. Coulson's cheeks flushed and he shook his head vehemently, although offered no further protestations.

"I can't eat another bite," Ward groaned as he flopped down onto the couch, one arm encircling his stomach, which he thought must have tripled in size over the course of the meal.

"Not even dessert?" Skye gasped, shaking her head as she leaned forwards and placed the back of her hand against Grant's forehead, pretending to check his temperature. "Doesn't feel like you have a fever."

"In retrospect, a third helping was a mistake, and why did Fitz make enough pasta to feed the entire East coast?" griped Ward, a distinctly sick feeling beginning to gnaw at his belly.

"I guess I'll help you out and eat your slice of cheesecake then," Skye stated, curling her legs up beneath her onto the couch.

"You're such a humanitarian," quipped Ward, a smile twitching at his lips as he watched Skye's eyes light up when she noted Simmons walking into the room with the home made chocolate cheesecake balanced on a plate.

"Hardly," snorted Skye, "but I brought sweatpants and I am not afraid to use them."

Skye practically purred with contentment as she draped her arm around his abdomen and rested her head on his shoulder, feeling so blissfully warm and content in that moment that she couldn't wipe the smile from her face.

"You were totally right," she allowed, nuzzling his neck and dragging a path of kisses down the line of stubble that had begun to darken his neck, "this is pretty good. Everyone's getting along, home cooked meals... chocolate... me, reclaiming my title of Battleship champion supreme..."

Ward laughed, his arm around her shoulder and hand resting on her hip. He slapped her rear lightly, "That's not a thing."

"You're only saying that because you lost. Face it Ward, I'm unbeatable," she teased, giggling as his hold on her suddenly tightened and he cupped her cheek to draw her into a kiss that she melted into with an airy sigh.

"Now, big piece or little piece?" Simmons inquired, cocking her head as she gestured around the room with a ridiculously large knife, which May wrested from her hand before the accident waiting to happen actually occurred.

"I'll slice the damn cake," declared May, pointedly indicating that Simmons, who had had more than her share of wine, should sit.

"So what are we cooking for Christmas dinner then, D.C.?" Skye pressed, brightening at the thought suddenly. Although the holiday season had never really held much magic or promise for her in past years, things were different this December; she not only had a team around her that she could consider her friends, but one that she could instead consider her family. It was perhaps the first year that they had remained together during the Christmas period, given that FitzSimmons usually both returned home to Britain whilst May visited with her mother, leaving Skye, Ward, Coulson and a skeleton staff keeping the Playground operational. It was a wholly alien and yet welcome feeling to Skye, being able to anticipate the usual festive niceties with a genuine sense of excitement instead of the familiar foreboding that the thought of Christmas had once brought her. She had yet to have even one that she would consider either a memorable or positive experience, each past year having been tarnished by the sting of rejection, an air of loneliness, and the ache of longing for familial traditions that she had never known.

Breaking her reverie, Coulson took the remaining seat on the couch beside her, plate of cheesecake held precariously in his hand.

Skye snuggled closer into Ward's embrace, partly to afford her boss a little more room, and also to satisfy her sudden need to be as near to him as possible. He squeezed her affectionately, rubbing his hand up and down her arm before taking the slice of cake May offered in his direction and holding onto it for his girlfriend.

Once the entire team had settled down in front of the fire, Coulson took a moment to watch his friends. The fraught atmosphere of the last few months had vanished, and the group chatted and joked with each other just as they had in the early days. He missed the camaraderie they had once shared, and seeing them together again, almost as the family they had once been, was a heartening sight.

FitzSimmons sat side by side as always, exchanging brief glances and beaming smiles as they discussed their childhood memories of Christmases across the Pond, delighting in the fact that even May played along and laughed at opportune moments, genuinely caught up in the conversation. His gaze next settled on Ward, and for a moment he felt a deeply troubled sigh pass his lips, elicited by the guilt he had spent the past year trying to dampen. He knew now that he should have helped the young man when the revelation about Garrett had first been uncovered; by the time he'd finally offered Ward the second chance that had always evaded him, he'd spiralled so much further than he'd had to. But still, Coulson marvelled at the progress he'd made in the eighteen months he'd been back with them, and in the friendships that had been repaired along the way. It was now not unusual to see Fitz and Ward engrossed in conversation, and although it had surprised Coulson no end to begin with, it had been Fitz that had been the first to really make an effort to welcome their former friend back into the fold.

Finally, Coulson could look upon the situation with objective eyes, and see that there was much Grant had to give, if only they'd allow him to.

"So come on then, what are you guys hoping Santa will leave in your stockings?" Skye inquired around a mouthful of dessert, her eyes shining as she turned her gaze over to FitzSimmons.

Swallowing another gulp of the wine that was going down far too easily, Simmons beamed as she replied, "Nothing too special, a few books, perfume, the usual."

"Fitz?" Skye pressed, laying her now empty plate on the coffee table.

"Lego," Fitz answered without missing a beat, eyes shining as he explained, "more specifically, the Lego Death Star, complete with 23 minifigures, moveable laser towers and Dianoga trash compacter monster. Just… a work of shiny, plastic art."

Skye was about to reply, when Simmons suddenly held her glass aloft, the wine sloshing dangerously.

"Wait... Do you mean what we want, or what we _really_ , _really_ want?" she narrowed her eyes, debating the point with herself.

Laughing softly, Skye shrugged, "Well, Science Spice... I guess what you really, _really_ want?"

Fitz shook his head, clearly caught up in his own internal struggle as he mused, "What exactly is a 'zig-a-zig-ah'? What does that even mean?"

"Shhh... talking, Fitzie," Simmons shushed him, pushing him back gently against the couch as he leant forward, ready to argue his case.

"I suppose if I could have absolutely anything, it'd just be to see my mum and dad on Christmas Day," Jemma stated, dismissing a forlorn sniff with another sip of wine.

Fitz placed his arm around her shoulder and squeezed her lightly, "Oh, yeah. What she said. I guess it'd be pretty great to get to spend Christmas with my family. Never missed one before. Feels... weird."

"When was the last time you guys made it home?" Skye inquired, her nose wrinkling as she gazed at them sympathetically.

"Last December, I suppose it was," Simmons said, voice growing quiet and somewhat morose as she felt a pang of homesickness seize her heart. She gave a valiant attempt at dulling it with another slug of wine, reaching once again for the bottle, which was fast emptying under her continued assault. "I've just been so busy with my new role and things in the lab have been hectic for Fitz, so it's been impossible to find the time. I barely manage an uninterrupted Skype call to them these days."

"Must be hard for you all," May commented, smiling gently as she reached for an empty glass on the coffee table and proceeded to fill it, before raising it at Jemma in a silent toast. "I guess I'm lucky that my parents live so close by. Well.. most of the time that makes me lucky. Sometimes it just makes me crazy."

"Why, Agent May, I do believe that was almost four consecutive sentences," Simmons giggled, ignoring the look of half hearted irritation that Melinda directed at her, knowing that her teasing was being taken in the good natured manner it was intended.

Redirecting the question, Jemma tilted her head to regard her friend. "So, what about you, Skye? What do you want Santa to leave in your stocking?"

Pulling a deep crimson throw from the back of the couch, Skye threw it over her own legs and cuddled closer into Ward as a sudden chill overcame her. Despite the copious amounts of food and wine, the temperature in the room was definitely lowering, although none of the others seemed to have noticed yet.

"It's not gonna fit in a stocking but... I totally want that safe house out in Colorado," at Jemma's vacant and searching expression, Skye added, "you know, the ranch? The one with the stables and the beautiful porch that wraps around, and... I don't know…"

She appeared to come back down to earth with a bump, "I guess it'd just be nice to have somewhere to call home... never really had that before. But I don't think you can gift-wrap a house or a pony, so…"

Jemma smiled sympathetically, turning her attention to Grant. "Ward, what about you? There must be something you want!"

"No, not really," Ward replied, looking genuinely perplexed by the question, "I mean, there's things I want for the future, sure. But, right now? I've got everything I ever wanted."

Noting the dubious expressions on FitzSimmon's faces, he laughed softly before he stated with sincerity, "I'm happy. For the first time in my life, I know what it feels like. And that's enough. In fact, it's everything."

His gaze landed surreptitiously on Skye, and she laid her head on his shoulder in response, peering up at him with such obvious affection that it stole his breath away.

"Socks. He needs new gym socks," Coulson volunteered, chuckling as the moment was fractured, and FitzSimmons and May both joined in on his laughter. Skye leaned up and brushed a gentle kiss against Ward's lips, flashing him a smile that more than conveyed her feelings for him in that moment.

"Don't think you're escaping this one, Coulson," stated Skye snootily, arching an eyebrow at their boss, who seemed to immediately shrink under the sudden attention of every pair of eyes in the room. "Tell us. What's your deepest, darkest festive desire?"

Shaking his head, Coulson relaxed in the armchair he occupied, taking a moment to peer into the flames of the nearby fire and truly contemplate the question. There were so many things he had sought over the course of his life, and few from that list he had actually managed to attain. His regrets were many but the wisdom of age had long ago informed him that his mistakes, no matter how numerous, had helped to shape the form of his character. He wouldn't change a single moment - even those that had been among his darkest. Yet happiness, or at least an emotion close enough to pass for it, had only recently begun to take root in Coulson, and it wasn't hard to pinpoint the exact moment that had occurred; the second he had stepped on the Bus, looked around at the wide eyed and flushed faces of his new team-mates, he had known that it was the beginning of something special - something that would come to mean so much more to him than pay cheques or duty or the approval of his superiors.

Puffing out his cheeks and blowing out a slow breath, he confessed, "I want our team back. I mean, back how it was... in the beginning. Before Hydra, before Real S.H.I.E.L.D... when the six of us were a unit. A family. You know, we worked better together than any team I've ever led, because we cared about each other. It wasn't just a job, right?! And not being in one place all the time, that was kind of neat, too."

"So, you want time travel?" Skye appeared confused, "and I don't know about you guys, but I don't wanna live that shit over again. I like things as they are now, I like us as we are now. Sure, it'd be good to spend more time together, and I kind of miss bunking on the plane... waking up somewhere new, and not having all of S.H.I.E.L.D. breathing down my damn neck twenty four hours a freakin' a day, but... I wouldn't ever want to go back there."

Coulson shook his head, "Neither would I. But The BUS 2.0 sounds good to me. I like to think we're all a little older and wiser, but... we're still that unit. We're still that family."

The five agents nodded in agreement, each having their own reason to want to revisit - or perhaps in Ward's case - do-over their time on the BUS.

"What about you, Melinda? What do you want?" Coulson turned his gaze on May, who rolled her eyes and folded her arms tightly across her chest in a defensive gesture.

May snorted, her head beginning to shake before any words had managed to escape her lips.

"Oh no, uh uh, I'm not playing this game," Melinda replied, reaching for her wine glass and taking a long sip, her eyes trained on Coulson over the rim of the glass. Saying nothing, the man only arched a brow, leaving the protestations to his younger team mates.

"Come on, we told you ours," Skye whined, resisting the strong urge to tug on May's sleeve like an impatient child.

"And I never asked you to," countered May, frowning as she rested her glass on the table. "See why we've reached an impasse?"

May arched an eyebrow, swallowing down a sip of wine as she gestured towards Skye with her glass. The younger woman was peering across at her former S.O. with an expression resembling that of a puppy that had just been kicked; eyes impossibly wide and watery, lips down-turned and chin on the precipice of wobbling.

"Did you really expect that face to work on me? You used it on me so I wouldn't make you get up at 6 am to train, and what happened?"

Grimacing at the memory, Skye replied testily, "Made me get up to train at 5.55 am."

"Exactly. Giving you five minutes to lose the attitude," May nodded emphatically, glancing at Ward she added, "that face may work on him… and the idiot to your left…"

She brought Coulson into the mix unashamedly, not in the slightest bit apologetic even when he suddenly raised both eyebrows and spluttered, as if appalled at the very idea.

"Oh, please, Phil. Don't embarrass yourself and try to deny it," May halted his indignant reply by waving dismissively at him.

"Oh come on, May, pleeeeease!" Simmons chimed in, "we've all shared. It's… it's a bonding experience!"

"Is it underwear?" Skye teased, perhaps her evening's alcohol intake making her feel braver than she aught to in the face of Melinda May. "Do you want something naughty and lacy under your tree? "

May only shook her head, thoroughly unimpressed by Skye's taunting.

"I bet that's it," Skye crowed, her features lighting up in delight, "is there someone special in your life, Melinda May? Is that why you're being so squirrely?"

"I would have thought squirrels were a sore point at the moment," retorted Melinda, downing the remaining wine in her glass impressively quickly.

"Come on, May, it's just us girls!" Simmons enthused, joining in with Skye's verbal assault against the Specialist, who cocked her head as she pointedly shot glances at Ward, Fitz and then Coulson.

"It most certainly is not, you cheeky bugger," Fitz protested, swiping at Simmons' glass and successfully managing to capture it. He grinned before taking a sip, all the while succeeding in fending Jemma off with one hand.

May inhaled slowly, deliberating over whether it was a good idea to reply honestly in a bid to draw a line under the questioning. Eventually, her irritation got the better of her, and she replied with heartbreaking sincerity.

"Alright, you want to know what I want more than anything?" she glanced up to find at least three pairs of eyes suddenly affixed to her unblinkingly. "I want… someone. I want love, and romance, and… God damn it, I want sex. I'm tired of being alone. Tired of being lonely. So… there. That honest enough for you? That's what I want, and it's never gonna happen."

Skye, Simmons, and Fitz suddenly cast their eyes guiltily to their laps, whilst Coulson continued to stare at her, a strangely contemplative smile on his face that he quickly removed when realisation struck him.

"Maybe it will… some day," he offered, holding her gaze and managing to extract a brief smile from her.

"Okay, so… I'm off to Bedfordshire," Fitz stated, standing up and rubbing his hands together, "for the Yanks in the room, that means I'm going to bed."

"Wait! You can't!" Simmons squealed, struggling to sit up straighter, "we haven't left anything out for Father Christmas!"

A world weary sigh escaping her lips, Skye directed an incredulous look at Jemma.

"Come on, Jem, don't you think it's time to face facts here?" Skye demanded, ignoring the hand that Ward laid on her knee, almost in warning, as he spotted the tell tale tremble of Simmons' bottom lip.

Jemma placed her glass down on the coffee table with a decisive slam, irritation coursing through her suddenly. It was Christmas Eve, and Skye's continual refusal to recognise that magic existed, that it was in fact all around them, was beginning to wear on her. Whilst she could understand that her friend hadn't been fortunate enough to experience the kind of loving and pleasant childhood that she had, Jemma had honestly believed that Skye had overcome it all in order to be the generally positive person she was, who was capable of being upbeat in the face of the worst adversities. To learn that she was incapable of appreciating such a magical tradition not only perturbed Jemma, but genuinely saddened her.

"Absolutely not," Simmons replied, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her chin upward in a defiant motion as she returned Skye's glare, "it's your choice not to believe, Skye, but that doesn't mean you get to belittle and make fun of those of us who do. Quite frankly, I thought you were better than that."

"Don't be that way, Jemma," Skye murmured, a wave of sadness passing so rapidly across her features that Simmons almost missed it completely. "I just can't see how someone as smart as you could really still think the whole Santa thing is…"

"Well I do," Jemma interjected, her tone a little harsher than she had ultimately intended, "and so does Fitz, and so does Ward, and so does Director Coulson. All intelligent, articulate and reasonable people."

"Okay," said Skye quietly, avoiding Jemma's gaze, "you're right. I'm being a dick. Go ahead and do what you want."

"Right, well Fitzie and I are going to put out some cookies and milk, in lieu of the shortage of sherry and mince pies, and then we're headed to bed… Fitz?" Simmons looked down at him somewhat testily, and he climbed to his feet with a nod of acquiescence.

"Righto, well uh… goodnight, guys," Fitz offered meekly, following behind Jemma as she dragged him out by the arm. He practically stumbled over the couch as the pair made a hasty retreat to the kitchen.

"Night," Skye muttered, sighing as Ward pulled her momentarily closer and kissed her temple in an effort to comfort her, despite his own opinions on the subject.

"Goodnight, guys!" Coulson called out, perhaps a little more cheerily than was required in order to make up for the sudden cloud that hovered over the room. Rubbing his hands up and down his thighs, he added, "I guess I'll hit the hay, too."

As Coulson disappeared from the lounge, beginning to hum yet another festive tune under his breath as he went, Skye's gaze flitted to May, who was scooping up empty glasses from the table. Quickly, Skye's hand shot out, and she squeezed May's arm in her fingers; a gesture of silent apology and comfort.

"I hope you get what you want this Christmas, May," Skye said as the older woman turned to meet her gaze. "You deserve it."

The two agents simply stared at each other for a few moments, the silence stretching on as their gentle smiles communicated all that needed to be said.

"Goodnight Skye," murmured Melinda, the affection in her tone heavy. She left the room only moments later, and Skye sat back against the couch again, her expression darkening in a manner that Ward recognised immediately. He touched her shoulder in an attempt to coax a further smile from her, but Skye only shook her head.

"You okay?" Grant queried, the back of his hand caressing Skye's cheek as she moved into his chest and rested her head on his shoulder. The sounds of FitzSimmons searching the kitchen for suitable offerings to bestow upon their red-suited god drifted loud and clear into the lounge, and a further sigh rattled Skye's body.

"I guess," she nodded, "I didn't wanna ruin their holiday, it's just… I can't believe in any of that crap, Grant. Life was just one long disappointment as a kid. It never got better, no matter who I asked, or what I prayed to. And honestly, I'm kind of surprised you buy into this whole Santa thing."

Ward shrugged, rubbing soothing circles onto her hip as she reclined against him, "I didn't say I believed every word of it, baby. I'm just… keeping a more open mind, that's all."

He rested his chin on the top of her head, before nuzzling her hair and wrapping both arms around her. He knew he'd never get over the novelty of having her in his arms, holding onto him like she was in that moment, trusting and, he dared to believe, loving him.

"Skye?" he chanced uncertainly, his breath warm against her cheek as she lifted her head to regard him with open curiosity.

"You know that… that how you felt as a kid… that's not…" he paused, finding trouble in eloquently voicing his feelings, "you know you're loved now, right? That the whole team, they love you, and… although you deserve better than a guy like me, I love you… more than anything."

A frown creased her features and she knelt up on the couch to regard him more intently, her lips drawn into a line of displeasure.

"Stop it," she demanded, "stop talking about yourself like that. You have no idea how alike we are, Grant. How we understand each other… just like you said we would. I love you and I choose you. That means everything you were, everything you are, and whatever you're gonna become… and for the record, the guy you are now? He's not just a good man, he's a hero."

With an expression of tenderness etched across his features, Ward gazed down at Skye, his hand moving to cup the warm apple of her cheek. She leaned into his touch, his proximity alone managing to draw a smile from her, albeit a thin and tired one.

"Let's hit the sack," Skye said, shooting a look at the kitchen surreptitiously, although Ward noted the gesture as any good Specialist would. "I'm beat and the kids will probably have us up early tomorrow."

"I don't think I've ever seen Coulson this excited," Ward allowed, a chuckle escaping him as he pulled Skye to her feet and rested a hand in the small of her back. He steered her towards the hallway just as FitzSimmons emerged from the kitchen, one clutching a glass filled to the brim with milk and the other brandishing a plate bearing store bought cookies.

"G'night, guys," Ward nodded at them, watching with an amused smirk as they bustled past him with Christmas stockings flung over their arms in addition to the sweet treats they planned on bribing Santa Claus with.

His attention was suddenly captured by Skye, who shivered so violently that he felt her shudder beneath his touch. The temperature seemed to be decreasing at a worryingly rapid rate as they walked to the end of the hallway - a location Ward suspected had been selected specifically for them. Not that he was remotely apologetic about the intensely physical aspect of their relationship; they did have three years to catch up with after all.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked, concern colouring his tone, as he swung the door to the bedroom open and Skye shuffled in beside him, rubbing her hands up and down her arms as she yawned profusely.

"Yeah, I just need a good night's sleep," she replied wearily, smiling as Grant turned on the bedside lamps, and then switched off the stark overhead bulbs. He pulled down the covers and removed two of the pillows, leaving one either side for their heads. Skye would no doubt gravitate towards his shoulder or chest at some point during the night anyway.

Crossing the room towards him, Skye rummaged in the bag on the nearby dresser, triumphantly producing their toothbrushes and a tube of toothpaste.

"I'm gonna brush my teeth and then… as your boss, Ward, I'm gonna need you to put in some snuggle over-time."

"I don't know, I might need to speak to my union about that," he said with a wince, instantly smiling as Skye clasped his hand and leant in to press a hurried kiss against his lips.

He watched her disappear into the adjoining bathroom, grin still in place as he gazed after her. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he picked up the compass from the night-stand and smoothed his thumb over the cool, metal case. Daring to flip it open, he watched the arrow stutter and spin, until it finally landed in the direction of his girlfriend.

He pondered briefly over the meaning of the words inscribed beneath his fingertips. He'd read them over and over again for the last twenty-two years without comprehending the message contained within them.

Flipping the case closed, he returned it to the night-stand just as Skye padded back into the bedroom, weariness doing nothing to dull her beauty.

Sometimes, even Ward was willing to go on a little faith.


	7. Chapter 7

****Part Seven****

It couldn't be morning already; of that Ward was unequivocally sure. He had closed his eyes barely seconds ago, it felt like, and the bone deep ache of exhaustion had not left his body. Yet the sharp jabs in his shoulder continued, wrenching him the last few inches away from sleep and tugging him into consciousness with a low moan.

"What is it…" he managed to slur, without even opening his eyes. He pulled at the covers in order to tuck them back under his chin, hoping that it would also provide some protection from the assault he currently endured from a particularly long and sharp fingernail.

"It's so cold," Skye hissed, her tone indicating that she hadn't managed to succumb to sleep herself, instead lying awake to stare at the ceiling and debate the temperature as time elapsed.

"Skye…" Ward all but whined, his voice heavy with weariness, "is that all? Baby… put on an extra pair of socks and…"

"I'm wearing four, Grant," Skye answered testily, her tone succeeding in forcing Ward's eyelids open finally. Skye continued, irritated, "And a sweater, a bath robe and a pair of sweatpants."

"I've never wanted you more," Grant muttered, not daring to allow the amusement he felt to colour his tone, for fear that he would only succeed in annoying Skye more.

"Hey, Grant… if you ever want to 'have' me again, you'll quit making fun of me," she replied, sitting up and turning on the bedside lamp with an exaggerated shiver.

"Would you judge me hard if I put my hat and gloves on right now?" She squinted against the sudden intrusion that the light provided.

"Little bit," he teased, laughing softly as she rolled her eyes and rubbed furiously at the tops of her arms.

Blinking against the brightness, she rubbed her eyes and regarded him in disbelief, her eyes sweeping his naked torso, "How are you sleeping like that? It's frickin' freezing in here. There's a blizzard outside, an actual 'airports are closed, we're all stranded', honest to goodness blizzard, and you're not cold?!"

Ward pondered her point for a moment, glancing down at his chest.

"I slept in the woods for four years, Skye, I…" he shrugged, watching her mock indignant expression melt away, "I guess I don't feel the cold the same way that you do."

Sidling closer, she snuggled into his side and wrapped her arm around him. Leaning her chin on his chest, she glanced up at him with a sleepy yet troubled expression.

"I hate him for what he did to you," she muttered. "I know we don't talk about it, I get why… it's the past, right?! But, I do. I hate him."

Wordlessly, Ward inched forward and brushed a kiss against the crown of Skye's head, his arms encircling her in order to draw her into the heat exuded by his body.

"I guess it is kind of chilly in here," he admitted, although he made no move to put on a shirt or do anything else to suggest he was suddenly feeling the cold.

"I can practically see my breath," complained Skye, and she blew out hard from pursed lips in an attempt to demonstrate her point.

"You want me to check the furnace?" Grant asked, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed and preparing to rise.

Skye burrowed under the covers, actually letting out a low whimper as her body was racked by another series of shivers she would class as bone jarring.

"Maybe FitzSimmons could help out?" she suggested, smiling up at Grant as he paused by her side of the bed in order to drape his jacket over the bed where the shape of her body was outlined.

"Sounds like they're already up," he speculated, head tilted slightly as he listened to the sounds of low cursing and banging that suggested the two scientists were attempting to navigate their way around the cabin in the dark.

"Either that, or Santa Claus forgot his night vision goggles," Skye muttered from beneath the covers.

Hurriedly throwing on his jeans, Ward strolled over to the door, noting the sudden change in temperature as he opened the door and a wave of warm, or at least warmer air met him.

He moved to step out into the hall at the exact moment that Fitz crept past, and the Scot let out a strangled, comical squeal that he desperately tried to swallow down.

"Don't DO that!" he whispered irritably, "you don't just jump out at people in total darkness like that!"

Ward folded his arms across his chest and rolled his eyes, "Actually, I do. That's my job. Hey… what's going on with the heat? The furnace working?"

Fitz nodded before he'd even finished his sentence, "Yeah, yep. I hear ya… it's bloody brass monkeys in here. Simmons and I are working on it." He held aloft the wrench in his hands, and Ward felt instantly ill at ease. "Just sit tight, snuggle up like baby cats, and we'll have this thing fixed in a jiffy."

He nodded at Ward to signal he should go back to bed, and the Specialist sighed dubiously.

"Sure you don't need a hand?"

Fitz scoffed, laughing as he moved his hand to place it on Ward's shoulder, before realising he was shirtless and hastily retracting his arm.

"I'm a rocket scientist, I think I can handle it. If we need to call in the brawn, we'll give you a yell, okay? But for now, the brains of the operation will handle it. Right? Magic. Sleep tight!"

Ward frowned at Fitz's retreating form, momentarily triumphant when the Scot stubbed his toe against a wall in the darkness and let out a further yelp. With a shake of his head, and a distinct sense of worry gnawing at his gut, Ward opened the bedroom door and ducked back inside, immediately noting the drop in temperature once again.

"That was quick," Skye observed, confused.

"They're on the case and they don't need my help," Ward replied, the smirk twitching at his lips suggesting that he was dubious about the claim Fitz had uttered.

"Oh God," Skye groaned, covering her eyes with one hand. "Why do I have a feeling this isn't going to end well?"

 ** **x-x-x****

"Hold the torch steady, Jemma," Fitz hissed, instantly remorseful of his sharp tone when Jemma slapped the back of his head.

"Oi, manners cost nothing, Fitz," she replied sourly, nonetheless correcting the position of the beam so that it was directed properly at the furnace. There was a moment of silence before she gathered the courage to inquire, "Are you certain you know what you're doing here? I don't doubt your intelligence for a moment but… well, shouldn't we call a maintenance man or something?"

"We're in the middle of a bloody blizzard!" Fitz retorted, eyes wide in exasperation, "now if you'll just hold that steady a second… yep… yep… almost there… and…"

Letting out a scream that was muffled only by the water spurting into her face, Jemma dropped the flashlight in panic and batted aimlessly at her face. "Fitz! Turn it off! Fitz!"

"I'm trying, I'm trying!" he yelled back over her squeals and gasps as he tried to hold back the blast of cold water with his palms.

"Try HARDER!" Jemma snarled, managing to move from the direction of the leak, only to find herself soaked to the skin, hair matted to her head, and her fluffy pale blue pyjamas sopping wet.

Clamping his teeth down, Fitz twisted the wrench determinedly, eyes closing against the pain pulling at his shoulder and in his fingers as he threw his entire weight into trying to turn the wrench.

"Should I get Ward?" Simmons suggested helpfully, shrinking back as Fitz shot her a dark look.

"No," he snapped back, gritting his teeth and groaning as he struggled desperately to right his mistake, which Ward would never let him live down should he discover it.

"That's a lot of water, Fitz," Jemma said, the worry in her voice poorly concealed as she watched water spray out and continue to pool on the floor. There was absolutely no way they were getting the security deposit back.

"I see that, Jemma," he growled back, panting as he demanded, "where's the bloody shut-off?"

 ** **x-x-x****

With Grant's arms fastened around her, holding her close and snug to his chest, Skye had almost drifted off into a peaceful slumber, the likes of which she had been waiting for since her head had first hit the pillow an hour ago. However, a peculiar rattling sound that appeared to be emanating from the wall to the right succeeded in wrenching her from the precipice of sleep, and Skye shot up with a startled cry.

"What the hell is that?" Skye gasped, pulling the covers up to her chest and shivering against the cold chill that assaulted her skin. At Ward's best and most persuasive efforts, she'd finally cast off her many layers of clothing, having been persuaded that sharing body heat was indeed the quickest and best way to keep warm.

Annoyingly, he'd been correct, and Skye had been lulled to the verge of sleep by the feel of his warm skin against hers, and his arms wrapped protectively around her, offering her a cosy, safe haven from the chilly air.

She had absolutely no intention of moving from the bed, which was why the creaking, clanging, and otherwise un-Godly noises coming from the walls and ceiling were making her incredibly nervous.

Sitting up beside her, his arm still around her hips, Ward rubbed a hand wearily over his face, "Sounds like the pipes…"

"Why are they making those sounds? They're not good sounds, Grant," Skye winced as, in the darkness of the bedroom, the noises seemed to grow louder and ever closer, as if travelling along the system of pipes that ran the length of the house.

"FitzSimmons," Ward sighed in exasperation, debating whether or not to investigate, or await their next catastrophe that he felt certain was imminent.

"I thought they were just taking a peek at the furnace?" Skye whispered in the darkness, starting to shiver again now that the covers had begun to pool in her lap.

"I guess I'd better go and see," muttered Grant, sounding less than thrilled by the prospect. All he wanted was a good nights sleep. Was it really that much to ask?

Skye chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes wide and her head cocked as she stared at the wall and listened to the gurgling, clanking noises growing more frenzied. Just as Ward had managed to zip up his jeans again, the peculiar noises seemed to halt; abruptly and perhaps somewhat ominously.

"Oh, I guess…" Skye began, voice tinged with hope and inflected with relief. Both feelings were short lived, however, as an almighty bang resounded from somewhere within the cabin, followed by a deafening and unfamiliar scream.

Frowning, Skye demanded, "Was that…?"

 ** **x-x-x****

May had been lying awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling above her, for the better part of an hour, and yet she still hadn't managed to encourage her body into slumber. However, that was perhaps for the best, given the resounding crash that punched a hole through the silence almost as soon as her eyelids flickered closed.

She barely had time to register the torrent of water pouring in through the broken plaster above her before her bedroom door was thrown open and, within mere moments, all five members of the team came barrelling in.

"Melinda? Are you okay?" Coulson's eyes widened as May leapt from the bed, soaked to the skin and struggling to rid herself of the sodden covers that clung to her legs.

"There's… there's water… coming in through… through my CEILING!" she yelled, shivering violently even as she tried her best to exude her displeasure.

"I can see that," Coulson observed, his tone comical in its lack of expression.

May cast a hurried glance across the line up of her friends, noting how Skye appeared to be clad only in her bathrobe, and Ward was wearing little more than a pair of jeans. Obviously their activities had veered more towards bed based ones than midnight plumbing expeditions. Coulson was sporting shorts and a t-shirt, looking fairly inconspicuous, which left only FitzSimmons - the latter of whom was in a similar state to May herself.

"You two!" she held out a trembling finger towards the scientists, who shrank towards the door, "what did you do?"

"It was an accident…" Fitz blurted out, eyes wide and frantic as they darted to Simmons, hoping she could provide some much needed back up. May took a few steps forward, the promise of murder burning bright in her eyes, although the hand Coulson laid on her arm seemed to dull that desire somewhat.

"Just a teeny, tiny miscalculation of sorts," Simmons explained in a rush, "funny really. I'm sure we'll all laugh about it tomorrow and…"

When Melinda released an audible growl, Jemma firmly closed her lips and swallowed hard, glancing to Skye for help.

"The furnace broke… it was cold… I thought it couldn't be that hard to…" Fitz began to babble again but choked on his words when Coulson rounded on him.

"You didn't think to call the maintenance guy?" he demanded askance, running a hand through his thinning hair as he stared at the catastrophic state of the bedroom, which hadn't even managed to survive a single evening of their occupancy.

"See!" hissed Simmons, digging Fitz in the ribs as she nodded at Coulson.

Gesticulating wildly towards the window and their surroundings in general, Fitz shouted, "Uh, hello? We're snowed in? Unless Santa's brought his bloody plunger and tool belt with him, we might have had a little bit of trouble finding someone!"

He yelled his final words, leaving Skye wincing and sticking her finger in her ear to soothe her aching eardrum.

"Okay… you, calm down," she directed, pulling closed the top of her robe as she gestured to May, pointedly ignoring her glares, "Jemma, go and dry off and change your clothes, Fitz… just… I don't even know, just… go to bed!"

At his gaping in protest, Skye held up her hand, "I don't wanna hear it. It's late, I'm cold, I'm tired, so… shush."

"Shush? _Shush_? Don't shush me!" he retorted indignantly, clearing his throat and nodding as Skye arched an eyebrow in his direction, a gesture he was sure she'd learned from Ward, who stood at her side, arms folded across his chest.

"Go on, scoot!" she flapped her hand at FitzSimmons before turning to May with a sigh.

Leaning forward gingerly towards Ward's general direction, Coulson said quietly, "Wow. She's strict."

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Ward replied, hiding a smirk as Coulson reeled back, understanding dawning in the worst possible way.

"I'd suggest a warm shower but…" Skye said, glancing at May and wincing. The Specialist simply continued to snarl, encircling her own body with her arms as she began to shiver as the water cooled on her skin and clothes. Seeing her trembling, Coulson quickly removed his bathrobe and draped it around Melinda's shoulders, offering her a smile when she glanced up at him in surprise.

"Thanks," she said softly, gathering the robe up around her and tying the belt.

"Okay, so, what the hell do we do about that?" Ward inquired, continuing to stare at the water that still poured through the ceiling, although it had slowed more to a trickle rather than the previous torrent.

"We'll shut the water off, see if I can get hold of somebody in the morning," Coulson suggested, looking at Ward in a slightly disdainful fashion as he noted his bare chest and impossibly chiselled muscles, "I think I saw a tool kit in the hall closet, you uh… you might want to put on a shirt. Please."

Turning to regard May, Coulson moved to jam his hands into his pockets, chagrined when he realised he was wearing pyjama shorts. He cleared his throat nervously and sought out her gaze, "Melinda, you're very welcome to bunk in with me tonight. I mean, I'll take the floor, you can… you can sleep in the bed. I wasn't suggesting that… I mean…"

Skye and Ward exchanged amused glances, the former narrowing her eyes suspiciously as she saw a blush briefly taint May's cheeks.

The Specialist simply nodded gratefully, planting her hands on her hips as she surveyed the room for her bag, "I need to change out of these wet clothes."

"Okay, well… make yourself comfortable, I sprayed a little lavender dream mist onto the pillows already, but you can just go ahead and turn them over if you don't like it," he added with a smile.

May frowned, pausing as if about to reply, but choosing instead to simply shake her head as she found her will to even mock was now long gone.

"Dream spray?" Skye mouthed discretely, biting back a smirk as Ward simply shrugged in response, and the two stared down pointedly at the ground as May grabbed her bag and stormed out of the room, whilst Coulson scurried off downstairs to retrieve the tool box.

"And hey…" Skye nudged Ward playfully with her elbow, "thanks for letting Coulson think I'm some crazy dominatrix!"

One eyebrow arched in a typically smug expression, Grant merely narrowed his eyes as he pretended to contemplate Skye's protest.

"You're pretty bossy," he teased, following her back towards their room.

Swiping playfully at the top of Ward's arm, Skye grinned up at him, a mischievous glint alight in her eyes.

"I guess you still owe him for that whole Vault D thing," she replied, gesturing that they should close the door on the state of destruction and disarray that was a direct consequence of FitzSimmons' meddling. The guilty parties in question could still be heard bickering from their shared room, where both were undoubtedly attempting to shed layers of soggy clothing.

"I almost feel sorry for May," Ward began, his smirk both amused and unbecomingly mocking as he and Skye walked past Coulson's door, arm in arm. He dropped his voice to a barely present whisper as he finished, "Taking an unscheduled midnight shower in a gallon of ice cold water, and now sharing a room with Coulson and his adenoid problem."

"I don't think we'll hear much complaining," Skye replied, winking in an exaggerated manner at Ward as he held open their bedroom door for her and ushered her back inside, where the warmth of the comforter and tangle of blankets awaited them.

Ward grimaced at the prospect, waiting until Skye was inside the bedroom before he closed the door behind them with a gentle click.

Skye shivered as she ran and leapt onto the bed, ignoring the springs groaning and creaking in protest at the exertion. She burrowed under the covers, scrambling around underneath the mountain of blankets like a small child might.

"So, you gonna go help Coulson shut off the water, or… are you gonna come and warm up your poor, freezing… __naked__ girlfriend?" she held his gaze pointedly, pulling her robe out from under the covers and tossing it to the foot of the bed.

Not even dignifying her query with an answer, Ward grinned, unzipping his jeans and throwing them onto the top of their bags as he crossed the room. Skye pulled back the covers for him in invitation, an easy smile in place. She slid into Grant's arms the moment his head hit the pillow, and she shuddered violently until her bare skin met his. His hands rubbed circles across her back, pulling a contented sigh from her lips as soon as she felt his body envelope hers.

"You know…" he began, rolling onto his side so that Skye was lying facing him, their legs tangled and her breasts pressed against his chest. Grant stared down into her eyes, his gaze suddenly darting to her lips as she bit down on her bottom lip and hooked her leg over his to press even closer. "This isn't the most… __relaxing__ position, Skye."

She grinned, brushing her lips against his, a jolt of electricity coursing down her spine as she felt him growing hard against her thigh, "Well, I'm kind of wired now… I was thinking maybe you knew __another__ way to keep warm?"

His grin wolfish, Ward lunged forward, his hands roaming the curves of Skye's hips as he gently rolled her over beneath him.

"I'll bet I can think of something."

 ** **x-x-x****

"Thanks for this, Phil," May said, somewhat awkwardly as she turned back the bed linens, her eyes on her friend whilst he worked to put together a makeshift place to sleep on the floor. He had managed to scavenge a sleeping bag from the recesses of a closet, and Simmons had donated a handful of blankets from her own bed, her guilt playing a heavy part in the act.

"You'd do the same for me," Coulson assured her, his smile never once wavering as he continued in his task.

May watched him in silence for several more seconds before she seated herself on the edge of the mattress, an eyebrow arched.

"This is stupid, it's your bed, you should take it," she offered, frowning at the perceived injustice.

Coulson seemed appalled at the suggestion, although he lowered himself onto the cold, hard floorboards with a poorly concealed wince. "Absolutely not, Melinda. I'll be fine down here."

Eyebrow arched in challenge, May walked over to him and gently toed the corner of his sleeping bag with her foot.

"Phil, get up. We're both adults here, we can share the damn bed," she scolded him with a roll of her eyes, adding with a smirk that unnerved him somewhat, "not like we haven't before."

"Well, yeah, but… but I mean… it was for a mission, and… I mean… we… I… its…" he stammered, brows creased into a frown as he peered up at her, fingertips curled over the edge of the sleeping bag in a mildly panicked gesture.

"Phillip, get your ass up off the floor, before I…" May began a countdown, strolling back to the bed and getting in on the side she planned on occupying. She tossed back the covers on the vacant side and turned to regard him, pleased to see he had scrambled clumsily up from the floor.

"Just for tonight," he agreed with obvious reluctance. For several seconds, he stood at the side of the bed and stared down at the mattress as if mentally preparing himself.

"Get into bed, Phil," May drawled, suddenly turning sharply and looking at the wall behind her as the sound of bed springs creaking in a tellingly rhythmic fashion assaulted their ears.

Expression incredulous, she snatched a Kleenex from the box on the nightstand and began tearing it up.

"Seriously? This has put them in the mood?" she demanded, referring to the catalogue of errors that had marred their evening, and indeed their stay.

Coulson grimaced, settling into bed at her side and primly pulling the blankets up to his chest as he recalled the list of repairs he'd had to make across the base because of the Inhuman pair's reckless and impulsive behaviour.

"Not a lot puts them __out__ of the mood. You should see my maintenance budget; plaster and glass repairs all over the base."

May wrinkled her nose, trying to dismiss the high pitched cry that drifted through the too thin walls. "And you don't think you should talk to them about it? You know as well as I do that relationships between agents are strictly against the rules. They could at least be discreet about it."

Coulson appeared reflective for a moment, glancing to his side as May settled down beside him, their elbows touching. Turning his head, he looked across at her before once more settling his gaze on the ceiling.

"She loves him, May," sighing softly he added, "and if I came between them, she'd never forgive me. And… as hard as it was for me to accept, I believe he loves her too."

May remained silent, thoughts turning over in her mind a mile a minute, but none that she would care to divulge to Coulson in that moment or any other.

"She deserves a little happiness," she conceded, tone uncharacteristically gentle, "after everything she's been through."

Nodding, Phil added quietly, "So does he. We've all made mistakes. There isn't one of us who doesn't have red in their ledger."

"You've forgiven him?" May inquired, hazarding a sideways glance at Phil, only to find him staring at her intently, a smile woven upon his lips.

"I think we all have, deep down," he answered, his tone changing to something that May had to work hard to decipher, "but I know from experience with a good friend that it'll be a long time before he's forgiven himself."

May regarded him for a moment before arching an eyebrow as she stuffed a piece of Kleenex into one ear. "I __know__ you're not talking about me. Ward and I are nothing alike!"

Coulson pursed his lips, lost in thought.

"I think we're all more like Ward than we want to admit. We all have our demons, May. It's… having someone around to help you work through them, that's what matters. I guess, in a funny way, I mean…" he appeared hesitant, "you and I have always had each other… if you think about it. I know I can depend on you, and I hope you know that I'm… I'm always here for you too, no matter what."

Stunned and slightly uncomfortable with both his admission and the pleased, almost shy smile that she felt twitch at her lips, May turned to face him and very slowly leant across his pillow. Coulson froze in place, his body not moving as his eyes followed her every move, wide as saucers.

"Goodnight, Phil," she breathed, planting a chaste kiss against his cheek.

For the briefest of pauses their eyes locked, and a smile passed between them that was hesitant and yet hopeful. And just like that, the moment was over. The Specialist jammed the second piece of tissue into her other ear and turned over decisively, tugging on the covers with a forceful yank.

Coulson reached out and turned off the lamp on the nightstand, laying back and peering up into the darkness with a boyish grin on his face that followed him even into his dreams.

 _"_ _ _Goodnight, Melinda."__


	8. Chapter 8

The clock on the mantle struck three, although the melodic chimes were not the only bells that broke the silence of the winter's night.

Up on the roof, sleigh bells jingled across the night sky, yet the six agents slept on, blissfully unaware of the red-suited visitor tiptoeing around the cabin.

Having already taken in the evidence of catastrophe in the lounge, Santa crept with supernatural grace along the hallway, stepping through the closed doors as though he were some spectral apparition. The sights that greeted him brought a smile to his face, although he lingered only momentarily, keen to preserve the privacy and modesty of his new, and yet old, friends.

Fitz and Simmons snored in perfect synchronicity, arms raised above their heads, legs strewn over the covers as they slumbered in neighbouring twin beds. Across the hall, Coulson and May slept side by side, a little closer than they'd ventured whilst awake, but still wary of keeping a respectable distance even in their sleep.

A room away, Ward lay in a perfectly contented slumber, curved around Skye's body until not an inch of space existed between them. She fit perfectly into his arms, back pressed against his chest, skin on skin, his hand clutched in hers and tucked underneath her chin.

It seemed from the chaos that could be found in various parts of the cabin that not all had gone to plan, but Santa took comfort in the fact that the agents were at least together over the holiday season; because as much as they might resist admitting it, they were family, regardless of blood and genetics. This had been his plan after all.

Santa smiled as he continued back into the lounge, his sack hefted on one shoulder. There was not much in it to be deposited at this particular dwelling, but nonetheless he had a gift for each and every one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents that slumbered on unaware of his presence.

He took a moment to pause in front of the fireplace, stooping down to scoop up a cookie and toss it into his mouth whole. He chewed and swallowed whilst staring contemplatively at the mess of a tree that dominated the corner of the lounge, swathed with all manner of broken and decrepit decorations. It simply wouldn't do. He had set out to provide them with a holiday experience to rival all others, the one they truly deserved, and it seemed instead that they had endured one calamity after another.

With a decisive nod of his head, Santa straightened up, already resolved as to how he could remedy the situation. A twinkle in his eye and a tune faintly whistled under his breath, he set to work.

 ** **x-x-x****

Ward stirred slowly awake, pulled from a deep, dreamless sleep by the sound of excitable chatter and raised voices that he assumed were coming from FitzSimmons' room. He sighed, smiling as he peered down at Skye where she lay, sprawled over his chest, her face pressed into his neck and her arm across his torso. He stroked his hand up and down her bare back, surprised to note her skin was warm to the touch, perhaps even flushed.

In fact, the room appeared to feel altogether much cosier than it had the previous evening, and although their exertions had more than kept the icy chill at bay, Skye had still demanded to be held in a vice like grip afterwards, only her head poking out from under the covers. Not that he minded, of course; he'd hold her forever if she'd let him.

"Skye?" he tried to coax her awake, brushing his lips against her hair as he stroked his fingertips up and down her arm, and then trailed the line of her spine until she shuddered in his embrace.

"Mmm… what time is it?" she opened one eye hesitantly, resettling her head against his chest and smoothing her palm over his ribcage.

"A little after seven," he replied, staring down at her until she brushed the hair out of her face and blushed at the scrutiny, "sounds like the kids are already up."

"Do I have to say 'Hawaii' again, Ward?" she groaned, laughing as he craned his head and sought out her lips. They shared a languid kiss, and he pressed his lips against the centre of her palm whilst she caressed his jaw and met his gaze with affection.

"Morning," she chuckled, adding as an almost afterthought, "and I guess, Merry Christmas!"

"That's still under debate," he replied, his mind drifting back to the previous evening's shenanigans. The image of a sodden May was etched firmly in his mind, and was certainly one he'd be conjuring whenever his mood was heading south.

Skye smirked, draping an arm over the edge of the covers, and suddenly realising just how warm the air seemed to have become.

"Hey, it's not minus a billion degrees in here," she commented, an eyebrow raised as she demanded, "what gives?"

Ward shrugged, pulling her back towards him and planting a kiss against her cheek before he spoke.

"No idea, maybe FitzSimmons finally fixed the furnace," he suggested, the idea sounding ludicrous even to his own ears. Skye's responding frown said it all, however.

"More like Coulson was up at the ass crack of dawn to demand a maintenance guy from guest services," she speculated, shaking her head as she continued, "not that I'm complaining. At least it might make the next few days bearable."

"I thought last night was pretty good," Ward offered, wincing immediately when Skye shot him a look that spoke volumes. "Well, give or take one or two minor incidences."

Skye rolled her eyes, nestling further into his embrace and watching her fingertips as they traced circles across his muscular chest.

"I guess the last part was okay," she glanced up at him from behind a fan of thick lashes, gnawing her bottom lip with her teeth as she thought about their more nocturnal exploits.

" _Okay_?" he repeated with a smirk, holding his lips teasingly close to hers but moving every time she tried to close the distance between them.

Lifting her head and moving to lie above him, she hummed as he ran his hands down her sides, finally curving around her rear and pressing her against him. She giggled at his smug grin, this time placing her hand on his cheek to steer his lips towards her. Kissing him once, she drew back.

"Amazing?" she punctuated her words with further kisses. "Awesome?"

Whooping in surprise as he kissed her hungrily and rolled her underneath him, Skye looped her arms around his neck and melted into a kiss that made her lungs burn with the sheer intensity.

The sudden pounding on the door forced them apart, however, and Skye rolled her eyes in irritation as she heard Simmons' clearly over-excited tone echoing through the hallway.

"Morning you two! Rise and shine! It's Christmas!"

Patting Ward sympathetically on the back, Skye lifted her head from the pillow and snatched a final kiss before wriggling to move out from beneath him.

"I'm gonna grab a quick shower," she stated, frowning curiously as she stepped naked from the bed, surprised at the lack of wintry chill. Shaking her head in momentary confusion, she gestured over to their belongings as Ward too finally pulled himself free of the haven of their bed.

"Can you grab their gifts out of the bag? Can't wait to watch the little scamps tear the paper off, their faces all excited…" she said sarcastically. She huffed out a sigh as there was another knock at the door.

"YES! We KNOW! We're taking a frickin' shower first," Skye yelled in reply, padding off towards the bathroom with a trail of hushed expletives leaving her lips.

Fifteen minutes later, (which FitzSimmons and perhaps even Coulson might have described as an agonising time frame), Skye and Ward appeared in the lounge, freshly showered and dressed, bearing armfuls of gifts.

"Coffee?" May asked, already setting about filling two empty mugs that sat on the edge of the coffee table.

"Presents!" Jemma squealed, her eyes alight with childish glee as she moved to help Skye rid herself of the numerous small gifts she hugged to her chest. "I'll sort them out into the piles and then we can get started opening them."

As Ward deposited the presents he had been juggling on an unoccupied corner of the couch, he shot a small smile at Fitz, who was sipping at his coffee from his perch in the armchair.

"I guess you were right, you didn't need my help with the furnace," he admitted, although simply because a part of him wished to bolster the scientist's significantly bruised ego following what had transpired the previous evening.

Sitting down at Ward's side, Skye curled her fingers around the warm mug in her hand and let her eyes wander the room.

It was brighter, cosier, more festive than she'd remembered, and she wondered where Coulson had found the time or the energy to add the extra swags, buntings, and even candle displays that littered every possible surface. Actually, the room looked like something out of the Sears catalogue, and it took Skye back to a time when, as a little girl, she'd wished for the home and family contained within the glossy pages instead of that year's hottest toy.

Seeing Coulson standing in front of the tree - the impossibly full and ornament laden tree - Skye quirked an eyebrow as she noted the expression of confusion that drew his brows into a frown.

"Uh… D.C.? Everything okay?"

Coulson turned to face her, his features incredulous. "Did you guys do this? It's… it's beautiful. Really just… beautiful."

Skye widened her eyes, her lips turning down as she shook her head, askance, "Uh, no. We were kind of busy sleeping… I figured you did it."

Suddenly looking up from where she was placing gifts into carefully constructed piles, Jemma frowned.

"Well, who made the fresh coffee? And… the warm pastries? And all of these gifts…" she trailed off, realisation suddenly dawning just as her gaze met Fitz's.

"The cookies were gone…" Simmons whispered, her eyes glowing with her palpable excitement. She paused momentarily in her task, clapping her hands together quickly like a little girl in the throes of joy.

"Simmons…" Skye warned, feeling that familiar irritation prickle at her again.

"So you're saying that the coffee and breakfast wasn't your apology for almost drowning me in my bed?" May asked, confused, as she peered from Fitz to Simmons and back again. Expression blank, Fitz shook his head.

"And you didn't redecorate?" Coulson pressed, his eyes sweeping Skye's face as she grimaced and furrowed her brow.

"No, I told you already, it was far too cold to move last night," she replied, her suspicions mounting despite her best efforts to control the hope she felt building within her. It couldn't possibly be, could it?

"Did you fix the furnace?" Ward all but demanded, a note of excitement that he just couldn't mask clinging to his tone as he gazed at Fitz.

"No, Coulson called a guy," Fitz muttered, somewhat sulkily.

"No, no I didn't," interjected the Director, his features drawn into an expression of utter awe. He turned slowly, eyes roving the tree, the decorations, the warm breakfast laid out on the table, and then finally the confused faces of his team.

"Well don't look at me, you all annoyed the crap out of me yesterday," May held up her hands to excuse herself of any involvement.

"Not guilty!" Ward similarly held up his free hand, watching as in slow succession, each member of the team shook their heads.

Adopting a snooty and slightly comical air, Jemma turned up her nose and shrugged, "One does hate to say 'I told you so'. "

Skye guffawed at the statement, "You live to be right, Jems. You're like a shark who… you know, always has to be right. You stop swimming and… That's not right is it?!"

Suddenly realising she was going absolutely nowhere with her analogy, the former hacker took a large sip of coffee and pointed with her sock covered toe towards the presents.

"Who wants to open their gifts?"

"Ooooh!" Simmons crooned excitedly, handing one gift out to each of the team from their own personal collection. "Okay, so who's going first?"

"Skye… as the resident Grinch, perhaps it might ignite your festive sensibilities if you opened the first gift?" The two friends smiled affectionately at each other, despite their teasing remarks and, after handing Ward her coffee mug, Skye nodded in agreement.

"Alright, fine," she clutched the box in her lap with poorly concealed enthusiasm, grinning up at Ward who seemed ever so slightly nervous. Reading the tag attached to the striped red and white box, she smiled and leaned up to peck him on the cheek, "Thanks, Robot."

Lifting the lid with a tentative smile, Skye found herself peering into an empty box, save for a sheet of green tissue paper that covered the base.

"Uh… I guess as surprises go, this is right up there with that Hydra thing," she taunted, watching as he rolled his eyes and gestured to the paper.

Skye lifted it up haphazardly, a slightly surprised expression settling on her features as she picked up a tiny, pink cat collar, complete with a bell.

Fitz held up his hand and scooted to the edge of his chair, "Guys, if this is some weird, Fifty Shades kind of sex game you're playing, I think you should maybe open your gifts in private."

Giggling at the Scot's half-joke, she lifted up the piece of paper in the bottom of the box and held it up for inspection. Her eyes widened in realisation, and she turned to Ward with a beaming smile.

"No way!"

"We get to pick her up in two weeks," he stated, watching with a grin as Skye slammed her hand over her mouth and bounced up and down in her seat.

"What? What is it?" Simmons demanded, struggling to get a good glimpse of the paper Skye clutched in her hands. Whatever it was, it appeared that Ward had excelled himself on the gift giving front, as tears trickled down Skye's cheeks as she dove towards him. The Specialist caught her easily in his arms, laughing as she hugged him close, whispering quiet 'thank yous' repeatedly into his shoulder.

"Look, look at my new precious little baby!" Skye cooed, her hand flying towards Simmons' face. The scientist recoiled quickly, realising only at the last second that the object Skye brandished at her was a photograph of a grey kitten, sleeping peacefully on a blanket.

"Oooooh, she's just darling!" enthused Jemma, beaming at Ward in absolute approval. "I don't think anything can top that present now."

"You like her?" Ward asked, although from Skye's reaction he knew that it was most likely an unnecessary query.

"She's amazing," Skye breathed, her eyes still shining with tears, "I've never had a pet before. It doesn't even matter that it's not a pony."

"A pony?" Coulson repeated, confusion colouring his tone.

Folding his arms across his chest, Fitz regarded the couple closely, rolling his eyes as he waited for them to draw breath from a lingering kiss.

"Huh. So uh… will you two be, you know…" he gestured between them with his finger, "co-parenting the wee fluffy one? Did you guys just get a pet together?"

"I think they did," Jemma supplied helpfully.

Ward arched an eyebrow at Fitz's good natured teasing, and found his grin only widening as Skye hugged her arm around his torso and pressed kisses into his neck.

"I don't run away from my responsibilities, Fitz."

"Good man," Fitz agreed, widening his eyes to prompt Ward to open the small, red envelope on his lap. "If she's got you a puppy, things are about to get interesting on the base! Come on then, hurry up. I want to get to my Lego."

Leaning her chin on his shoulder, Skye diverted her gaze to the envelope Ward was in the process of tearing open. "It's from me. I wasn't sure what to get you, so… I hope you like it?"

Ward reached into the red paper and pulled out a scrap of black fabric. Turning it over in his hands, he noted the white embroidered lettering with a huff of disbelief leaving his lip. Spelled out in standard S.H.I.E.L.D. font was 'Agent Grant Ward - Unit Leader'.

"I don't…" he began, his eyes ticking from Skye and then to Coulson, who appeared to be smiling knowingly at the gift that still held the Specialist both transfixed and confused.

"I've got a proposition for you, Ward," Skye said softly, reaching out and tracing a finger over the lettering on the tac gear badge, "I need someone to lead with me… to lead the Secret Warriors. It has to be someone I trust, someone who I know has got my back out there no matter what… so the only person that could be, is you."

"Skye, I…" Ward murmured, words of disbelief, gratitude and self-doubt dying immediately on his lips.

"I know you've probably got a million and one stupid ass reasons that you think you don't deserve this, but I don't care," Skye interrupted, her hand cupping Ward's cheek. He closed his eyes, nestling into her touch, allowing her voice to wash over him as she continued, "This whole Secret Warriors, leader of our people thing, is my destiny and… well, I like to think you are too. I could do this alone, but I really don't want to any more."

Ward remained silent, his eyelids flickering open. He surveyed Skye through wide, watery brown orbs, within which lurked such a conflict of emotions that Skye simply stayed quiet, allowing Grant his internal war for a while. He had made mistakes, it was true, but he had paid for them every day since with blood, sweat and more than a pound of flesh. Grant Ward was a different man from the one several years ago who had blindly followed a psychopath out of misguided loyalty and a desire to be loved; now, he was every inch the warrior, the protector, and the truly good man that Skye had first believed him to be. She could think of no better person, Inhuman or otherwise, to lead their kind at her side.

"In case you missed it, Grant, I love you… like, I really, __really__ love you. And you've earned this…" she stated emphatically, her thumb brushing tenderly over his jaw as she peered up at him with nothing but honesty and utter devotion.

He kissed her wrist, chancing a hesitant glance over at Coulson to ascertain his feelings on the subject.

Finding the couple both suddenly looking over at him, Coulson explained with a shrug, "She talked it out with me already. I… I think it's a great idea. There will be conditions, of course…"

Ward nodded, expecting a plethora of extra monitoring, lie detectors, and intermittent meetings designed to perhaps catch him out in another scheme or lie, if only to assuage the nerves of the S.H.I.E.L.D. hierarchy. He expected no less, he deserved it after all. Although he hoped his team at least knew that he would rather die than hurt them again, or betray the woman he loved.

"Yes, sir," Ward agreed, noting the smile growing on Coulson's face.

"Good. You remember how to be an S.O.?" Coulson asked, picking up a manilla folder and passing it to Jemma, who handed it along to Skye, who eventually dropped it in the lap of a very overwhelmed Ward.

"Y…Yes, sir," Ward bobbed his head, looking around the room and finding that even May did not appear to be against the idea of his official reinstatement, or indeed his promotion to Inhuman leader.

"There's your new rookie," shooting Skye a sentimental smile, Coulson added, "who knows, maybe this one won't shout 'bang' when they pull the trigger."

"I refuse to believe any rookie can be as adorable as me," Skye huffed, refusing to smile even as Coulson chuckled and reached across the space that divided them to ruffle her hair.

"I could never call anyone else 'rookie'," Ward promised, quickly leaning down to press a kiss against Skye's lips. "I can't thank you enough for this, Skye."

"You can try later," she replied quickly, winking at her boyfriend, who appeared momentarily caught off guard by her comment before a brief smirk twitched at his lips.

"Okay, so, me next!" Fitz enthused, grabbing at the largest box that sat at the top of his pile, his eyes alive with excitement and shining with the tangible prospect of a brand new Lego Death Star.

However, just as Fitz began tearing at the corner of the paper on his parcel, Coulson's cellphone trilled insistently from the pocket of his bathrobe. Frowning, the Director reached for the cell, examining it quickly and without real interest. However, something that he saw on the screen brought him up short, and the colour drained from Coulson's face abruptly.

"Phil, what is it?" May asked worriedly, watching as he sank down onto the couch next to Skye, his expression difficult to decipher.

Huffing out a puff of breath, Coulson shook his head in apparent awe, looking up at them all and grinning inanely as he gestured to the screen. Infuriatingly, he seemed incapable of speech.

Fitz looked at Simmons and the pair shook their heads, each as clueless as the other.

"Maybe he's got a match on Tinder," he suggested with a shrug.

"D.C.?" Skye pressed, glancing over his shoulder as she attempted to spy on the photo he appeared to be scrutinising.

"Sir?" Ward prompted him, slightly taken aback when Coulson turned to face him with possibly the widest grin he'd ever seen.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Coulson proclaimed, turning the phone around so Skye and Ward, and then the rest of the team could look at the photograph of the plane.

"Is that…" Simmons began, realisation suddenly dawning as she slapped her hand over her mouth.

"A BUS," Coulson stated through his ever present and growing smile. "A new BUS."

May sucked in a sharp breath that sounded suspiciously like an excited gasp before she grabbed for the cellphone that Coulson clutched.

"Does it say anything?" Skye demanded, shuffling closer to May, who now cradled the phone as she gazed almost lovingly down at the picture.

" _Happy holidays and report for duty in the New Year_ ," Coulson said, his mood still obviously elated thanks to the piece of news.

"But what about the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Simmons inquired, "how can you be Director from 30,000 feet in the air? That's an awfully long way to 'direct' from."

"Fury's reinstating himself, said it's time he got off his lazy ass and returned to work," Coulson replied, shrugging in a manner that demonstrated that he was most definitely not upset by that particular development.

"So… you'll be assigned a new team then?" asked Skye, attempting to maintain a casual facade, although both Coulson and Ward could see the flash of jealousy cross her features at the idea that their original team would be replaced.

Coulson shook his head, as if the idea were ludicrous. "I've got a team. FitzSimmons, I'll need you guys to head up the science unit… Well, actually, to kind of __be__ the science unit. Skye… Ward… What do you say, huh? I mean, if you wanted to, you guys could divide your time between Inhuman HQ and missions in the field? I don't wanna pressure you, but… it'd mean a lot to me to have the old team back again."

The couple exchanged a brief glance, before Ward shrugged at her questioning gaze and they exchanged a kiss as well as wide smiles.

"Count us in, _A.C_ … long as you've got room for us and a little one."

Skye, suddenly intercepting the wide-eyed and shocked gazes her friends rewarded her with, rolled her eyes in amusement. "The kitten, guys."

"Ohhhhh. Right. Gotcha," Fitz nodded at her explanation.

"I don't think that'll be a problem" Coulson replied, "might need to watch its claws on the leather interior, but…"

Turning to face May as she perched on the arm of the couch beside him, Coulson sought out her gaze and searched her features.

"What do you say, Melinda?" ignoring the intrusive and also highly interested stares of his young team, he added, "I don't want to do this without you."

May remained silent, staring pensively into the distance as she considered Coulson's proposition. Perhaps a few months ago she would have jumped at the opportunity to be back in the field, actually making a difference, as opposed to wiping the noses of the greenest recruits to walk through the doors of the S.H.I.E.L.D. academy. However, lately, she had begun to realise that time was perhaps passing her by and, if she truly sought to remedy the loneliness that plagued her, she should consider finding someone to settle down with sooner rather than later. And yet, despite a string of first dates and a brief period of holding an account on a dating website (which she would not admit to under even the most heinous torture) Melinda was still very much searching for that person she could really make a connection with.

Gently, Phil reached out and touched the back of her hand, drawing her eyes to his face, where he wore a patient and encouraging smile.

He spoke softly as he wrapped his fingers around hers, "No pressure, Mel. I understand if this isn't what you want but… I won't ever stop hoping that you'll agree to be with me…"

Coulson appeared to realise his choice of words only a fraction of a second after they had spilled from his lips, and his cheeks turned a rare shade of puce as he corrected himself hastily, "Us… I want you to be with 'us'."

But it was too late to correct his accidental admission now, and with a chagrined shrug, he squeezed her hand, as if confirming his secret and long-held affections with that simple action.

In an uncharacteristically emotional display, May swallowed hard, nodding her head as she clasped his hand that little bit tighter in reply.

"That is what I want," she said quietly, noting how all four pairs of eyes were busily looking like they weren't peering at her. Unsuccessfully, she might add.

"It is?" Coulson seemed at once thrilled and also highly confused by her acceptance, and what he hoped was a confirmation that there could perhaps be something more than simply friendship at work.

May smiled and rolled her eyes, brushing her thumb over the back of his hand before she added in a much more Cavalry type bark, "It is. Besides, somebody's got to help you wrangle this team of misfits."

"True story," Coulson agreed, laughing as he pulled her closer and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Hey, I strenuously object to that!" Fitz protested loudly, adding, "or I would, if it wasn't completely accurate."

"Open your Lego, Fitzy," Simmons said, her best effort to shush him as they watched May and Coulson share a look that held so much promise it managed to set all their hearts racing.

"How is it that this is shaping up to be more than a half decent day after all?" demanded Skye, her head shaking from side to side slowly as confusion washed over her. The last twenty-four hours had brought nothing but misery and catastrophe, and yet it seemed that Coulson had managed to pull things out of the bag last minute to make it a somewhat salvageable Christmas. She certainly wasn't going to complain about her kitten, although she dearly hoped there was an I.O.U. for a pony somewhere in that collar box.

Watching Fitz tear into the parcel in his arms with alarming speed and vigour, Skye leant her head against Ward's shoulder. Grant looped his arm around her and pulled her closer into his chest, and when she glanced up to find his still awe-filled gaze upon her, she shot him a beaming smile in response.

"The Millenium Falcon! It's the Millenium Falcon!" Fitz shrieked excitedly, holding the box up to his face and kissing it repeatedly, much to the team's amusement.

"I think you'll find that the appropriate figures are also in there," Jemma prompted, causing Fitz to drop the box and claw through the discarded paper for the packet of figures he'd managed to miss. "Sorry it's not the Death Star but it was a tad out of my price range, I'm afraid."

Fitz's eyes lit up as he emptied the four Lego figures into his open palm, and he lunged forward and hugged the Brit so hard that she toppled backwards onto the carpeted floor with an 'umphh' of surprise.

"I think he likes it," Coulson laughed, his face suddenly creasing into a frown as he noted a flat, rectangular package still sitting under the tree. He was certain it hadn't been there ten minutes ago.

Picking the mystery parcel up, he ignored the two excitably chattering scientists, as Fitz waxed lyrical about his new toys and Jemma merrily held aloft a new attachment for her microscope. Turning the label over in his hand, he was surprised to find written in ornate cursive, 'For Skye & Grant.'

"It's for you guys," he said, passing the gift over to Skye, who held it aloft and eyed it with a suitable degree of suspicion. Ward reached out and pulled off the tag, his heart beginning to hammer in his chest as he realised he recognised the neat, handwritten scroll. And just as the last time he had seen it, it was signed, 'With love, S.C.'

"Did one of you guys get this?" Skye queried, smiling as she shook the package, listening to it rattle with evident curiosity.

"Wasn't me," Coulson replied, looking sheepish as he continued, "I couldn't figure out what to get everyone so… shower gel and bed socks all round."

Skye paused, arching an eyebrow at their boss, whose shrug seemed to be the only apology they would be receiving.

"Hurry up and open it," Simmons enthused, scooting closer to Skye on the couch in order to peer over her shoulder.

Skye tore at the paper, the infectious Christmas spirit finally beginning to effect her. She was unsurprised to find a small cardboard box beneath the paper, and she paused to shoot a glance at Grant before she popped the lid open.

"Huh…" she murmured, arching an eyebrow as she peered down at the single key that nestled in the paper lining the bottom of the box. "Just what I've always wanted. Really, whoever's responsible for this guys, you knocked it out of the park."

Chuckling, Ward removed the box from her hands and gazed down at it.

"What's that?" he asked, reaching into the bottom of the box and pulling out a wad of papers carefully enclosed in a folder.

He opened the folder up between him and Skye so she could read at the same time, and the pair exchanged incredulous glances at the second set of keys that fell out of the wallet.

Turning the page, Skye's eyes widened as she read over the document before them.

"Holy shit. We own an apartment?!" Shaking her head, she looked up sharply at Ward, "Grant, did you do this?"

"Nothing to do with me, baby, I swear," he stated his innocence, shaking his head in shock as he picked out the impossibly shiny booklet that welcomed them to life as residents in a new purpose built, partly S.H.I.E.L.D. funded apartment building. If the details in the documents were to be believed, Skye and Grant were the proud owners of a two bedroom, two bath, penthouse apartment, complete with panoramic views of the city, a terrace, and - Ward noted with a slight smirk - a jacuzzi tub.

"Seriously… Coulson, was this you?" Skye demanded, her hand flying to her forehead as she appeared to flounder, "this is crazy, we can't accept this!"

May shrugged, clearing her throat slightly self-consciously as she noted her hand was still in Coulson's. But she regarded the younger woman with a smile that betrayed her difficulty believing the words that were about to come out of her own mouth.

"Skye… didn't you say that if you could have anything in the world for Christmas, it'd be a home? Well, as much as it pains me… and I mean physically pains me… to say this… what if Santa Claus is real? Maybe he's making amends. Finally giving you what you asked for."

Skye shook her head, mouth falling open as she stammered, "No… no, that's crazy, he's not… I mean…"

"There's a letter," Ward interjected, slipping a small envelope out of the pile of papers. He ripped it open hurriedly, surprised to find his heart hammering in his chest.

"Well, what does it say?" inquired Simmons through her smile, which was an indication of the 'I told you so' that was sitting on the tip of her tongue. "Don't be shy, Ward. Read it aloud."

First shooting a look at Jemma, who obediently mimed a zipping motion over her lips, Ward peered back down at the letter and cleared his throat.

" _ _Dear Skye and Grant, I realise that this gift can never replace the joy and wonderment that was so very cruelly absent from the Christmases of your younger years.__

 _ _But just as fate intended all along, you found your way to each other - and I found you again, 'Daisy'. The past cannot be repaired, or revisited without regret, but your future, oh your future is a bright one, filled with the love you both once sought and have now so clearly found in each other.__

 _ _You may be surprised to find you are both now the owners of a rather splendid downtown apartment.__

 _ _I realise this is not that spectacular ranch you adore so much, Skye, but that will come in time. For now, think of this as your first home together. With love, S.C.__ "

Skye stared straight ahead, and the room was suddenly plunged into silence as Ward appeared suitably taken aback, both of them utterly lost for words.

"You didn't buy this apartment?" Skye double-checked again, although this time her voice was soft and uncertain. Tears ran down her cheeks and she swatted at them clumsily, picking up the keys and testing the weight of them in her palm.

Ward shook his head, opening his arms out to her as she turned to face him and looped her arms around his neck.

"We have a home," she sniffled, far too dazed by the revelation to be able to process it in its entirety.

" _ _We__ have a home…" she suddenly repeated, realisation catching up with her. "Are you okay with that?"

"I wouldn't want it to be any other way, baby," Ward assured her, burying his nose in her hair as Skye flung herself at him, attempting to stifle her sobs in his chest in vein.

"Now's probably not the best time to ask if she finally believes, is it?" Simmons checked in a whisper, which she directed at Fitz, who only looked up momentarily from his Lego.

"Woman, I am trying to work here," he scolded her, before returning to the task of opening Bag 2 and spreading the contents out on the coffee table.

Phil and May exchanged smiles, both of them finding themselves a little misty eyed as they watched Skye and Grant revel in their happiness, which they could unanimously agree was so very deserved.

When Skye drew back from his chest, it was with a broad smile through her haze of tears. Placing her hand to his jaw, she stroked her thumb over his cheek and cocked her head.

"We have a home," she couldn't stop repeating the words, "you and me, together. And a cat…"

"We do," he nodded, searching her face and feeling a tremendous sense of peace and calm overcome him. "I know it's not the ranch you dreamed of, but I think he was right. You and I have so much of the world to see together, Skye. We wasted a lot of time, and now we can take it back. It's like… I get to make it right, going back to the BUS, to the team… and I can do it with you beside me."

"Santa doesn't pull any punches, huh? He's got us shacked up in this swanky apartment… pet parenting… and that's just in one night. The dude's like seriously hardcore," she exclaimed, widening her eyes to convey just how much of a risk he may have potentially been taking by meddling in affairs of the heart.

"Hey, he got Coulson a plane… and… I don't think we'll be the only ones bunking in together before long," Ward lowered his voice, nodding over towards their boss and May. "Maybe Santa should have strung a few pairs of earplugs onto the tree."

"Wow," Skye breathed, her eyes widening as realisation struck her with full force, "he really is real, isn't he?"

Ward's smile only grew as he nodded his head and affirmed quietly, "Yeah, I guess so."

Skye remained perfectly quiet for a few moments, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. Simmons settled down at her side, draping an arm around her shoulder before pulling her close for a hug.

"Does it feel any different?" Jemma asked, tone rife with genuine curiosity, "believing, I mean?"

Skye paused, deliberating over the question carefully. Finally, with awe still present in her expression, she declared, "It sounds stupid but… maybe the world seems like a better place? Like knowing that magic, even just a little bit, really exists… that makes everything just a little less scary."

Leaning her head on her friend's shoulder, Skye smiled as she felt Ward squeeze her hand, and as she gazed around the room where her friends continued to exchange gifts, she thought she had perhaps finally found all those things she had been so desperately looking for as a child.

Jemma hugged her tightly, subduing a yawn that she felt about to overcome her, perhaps due to their late night plumbing exploits, and the ungodly hour she had found herself awake that morning.

"Gosh, we've been through so much together in just a few short years," Simmons contemplated, glancing at each member of the team in turn, "and now we're going right back to the very beginning. It seems… fitting, somehow."

Thinking back over the last four years, Skye nodded in quiet contemplation.

"Yeah, it does. And I know it sounds crazy, cos so much bad shit has happened, but… I wouldn't change anything. Because if I did, maybe we wouldn't all be here together like this now, you know?!"

Nodding almost instantly, Jemma suddenly paused, eyes narrowed.

"Well, except the whole Hydra thing was incredibly tiresome… and… actually, there's probably quite a lot I wouldn't care to revisit if I'm being entirely honest." Noting Skye's amused smile, she added, "But I'm glad we're all here now, of course. I must hunt out that Scrabble board for our impending travels!"

"One thing though," Skye began, her smile melting away into an almost troubled frown as she peered at FitzSimmons, "Santa Claus didn't get you guys anything, and you believed right from the start."

"Perhaps that's why," Jemma replied, her expression indicating that she bore no jealousy towards her friends in the slightest, "we didn't really need his help."

As the doorbell trilled quite insistently, May climbed to her feet and disappeared from the lounge in order to answer it, and no doubt deal with an irate member of staff from guest services who had gotten wind of the enormous hole in the ceiling of one of their bedrooms. For, as many things as Santa Claus had chosen to repair that night, the plaster was not one of them.

"Still, I feel bad," Skye continued, "you and Fitz were the only ones that treated him with the respect he kind of deserved. Shouldn't you guys get a reward?"

"Oh Skye," Simmons began with a chuckle, abruptly trailing off as May returned to the room, a confused and yet simultaneously pleased expression etched upon her features.

"It's for you guys," Melinda declared, stepping aside to reveal a trio of particularly cold looking and snow dusted individuals standing on the threshold of the doorway.

Skye's eyes widened in shock as Simmons suddenly leapt to her feet, charging across the room through the strewn wrapping paper and discarded bows, ribbons, and boxes.

"Mum! Dad!" she yelled, grinning in delight as she launched herself into the waiting arms of her parents, as Fitz too ran full pelt into his smiling mother's embrace.

Coulson stood up from the floor beside the couch, standing back to allow them to exchange pleasantries and enjoy their little reunion.

"But how?!" Skye whispered sideways to Ward, "there was like a full on blizzard last night!"

"Looks like there'll be three more for dinner," Coulson chuckled happily, his gaze landing on Skye, his designated kitchen assistant for the day.

May took her place next to Coulson, preparing to introduce themselves once the hugging, kissing, and cheek pinching was done. It was the perfect end to their morning, as it seemed that somehow, each had received the one thing they truly wanted, and found the family they all sought and needed, one way or another.

Leaning closer and wrapping his arm around her waist, Ward drew Skye closer and pressed a gentle kiss against her lips. Fingertips caressing the curve of her cheek, Grant shrugged, the most content and serene smile his girlfriend had ever seen playing across his lips.

"Like you said before, baby… _magic_."

From that moment on, for the rest of her days, there was nothing that 'Skye' Daisy Johnson (and in time, Skye Ward) could do but simply believe. It was an all encompassing belief, faithful and unwavering to the last, that she eventually passed on to her children and even her children's children after that. And it was glorious; the first true miracle that a once cynical and damaged orphan had witnessed, but by no means the last.

But that, my friends, is a story for another time…

The End.


End file.
